Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
Her lips are like some rose so fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
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 might come
When she and I might be as one
Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
Her lips are like some rose so fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands
I’ll go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
Where satisfied I never shall be I write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
Her lips are like some rose so fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands