Black Is The Colour کے بول

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. I go the Clyde and 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 whereon she stands.