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Black Is the Colour

Black is the color of my true loves hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he standsI love my love and well, he knows

I love the ground whereon he goes

I wish that day would soon come

When he and I can be as oneI 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 ten thousand timesBlack is the color of my true loves hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he stands

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