Both Sinead O'Connor's and Kate Rusby's versions have diverged a bit from the original:


I AM STRETCHED ON YOUR GRAVE
Translated by Frank O'Connor from the Irish

I am stretched on your grave
  And would lie there forever;
If your hands were in mine
  I'd be sure we'd not sever.
My apple tree, my brightness,
  'Tis time we were together
For I smell of the earth
  And am stained by the weather.

When my family thinks
  That I'm safe in my bed
From night until morning
  I am stretched at your head,
Calling out to the air
  With tears hot and wild
My grief for the girl
  That I loved as a child.

Do you remember
  The night we were lost
In the shade of the blackthorn
  And the chill of the frost?
Thanks be to Jesus
  We did what was right,
And your maidenhead still
  Is your pillar of light.

The priests and the friars
  Approach me in dread
Because I still love you
  My love and you dead,
And would still be your shelter
  From rain and from storm,
And with you in the cold grave
  I cannot sleep warm.


[This version appears in
"Kings, Lords & Commons" by Frank O'Connor (1959);
"The Little Monasteries: Poems Translated from the Irish" by Frank O'Connor (1963);
"A Frank O'Connor Reader" edited by Michael A. Steinman (1994);
"The Ireland Anthology" edited by Seán Dunne (1998)]