Black is the Colour کے بول

Black is the colour of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair 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 soon would come When she and I will be as one I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep But satisfied I never shall be I'll 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 Has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon she stands