Black Is the Color

Black is the colour

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 where on she stands

I go to the Clyde

where i mourn and weep

For satisfied i never can be

I write her a letter

just a few short lines

and suffer death a thousand times

Black is the colour 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 where on she stands

I love my love and well she knows

I love the ground where on she goes

And i wish the day it soon would come

when she and i could be as one