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 go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can be
And I write her a letter just a few short lines
and I suffer death a thousand times
For 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
And I wish the day that soon would come
When she and I could be as one
