Black is the color of my true love's hair His lips are like some roses fair He has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love, and well he knows I love the ground whereon he goes I hope the day soon would come When he and I will be as one
And black is the color of my true love's hair His lips are like some roses fair He has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon he stands
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep But satisfied I never shall be I'll write him a letter with a few short lines and suffer death a thousand times
For black is the color of my true love's hair His lips are like some roses fair he has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon he stands I love the ground whereon he stands