Rising Gael - Black is the Color | Текст песни

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• Rising Gael
• Black is the Color

Black is the Color

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
The sweetest smile and the softest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never sleep
I'll write to you in a few short lines
I'll suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
The sweetest smile and the softest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands

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