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