Black Is the Colour

Black is the color of my true love's hair

Her lips are like some roses fair

She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon she stands

I love my love and well she knows

I love the ground whereon she goes

I wish the day it soon would come

When she and I could be as one

I go to the Clyde, and I mourn and weep

For satisfied I never can be

I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines

And I owe death a thousand times

Black is the color of my true love's hair

Her lips are like some roses fair

She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon she stands