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 whereon she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
I wish the day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one

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 whereon she stands

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
For satisfied I'll never can be
I write her letters, just a few short lines
And I suffer death a thousand times

For 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 whereon she stands



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