Black Is The Colour

Black is the colour of my true love's hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground where on he stands



I love my love and well he knows

I love the ground where on he goes

How I wish that day would soon come when he and I can be as one



I go to the Clyde and I mourn and wait for satisfied

I never sleep

I write him letter

Just a few short ones and I suffer death then thousand times



Black is the colour of my true love's hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground where on he stands



I love the groud where on he stands

I love

I love

I love the ground where on he stands