black is the colour

black is the colour of my true loves 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 he knows

i love the ground whereon he goes

i wish that day soon would come

when he and i can be as one

i go to the clyde and i mourn and weep

for satisfied i never sleep

i write him letters just a few short lines

and i suffer death a thousand times

black is the colour of my true loves hair

her lips are like some roses fair

the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

and i love the ground whereon she stands

black is the colour of my true loves hair