Black Is the Colour

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, I mourn and weep For satisfied I never can be And then I write her a letter, 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 I love the ground whereon she stands