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Black is the color 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 whish the day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one
I go to the Clyde
and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can be
I'll write her a letter,
just a few short lines
And I owe death a thousand times
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like red roses fair
She has the sweetest smile
and the gentlest hands.
And I love the ground whereon she stands
