Black is the color 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 whereon he stands.
I love my love, and well he knows.
I love the ground whereon he goes.
And I wish the day, it soon will come
When he and I will be as one.
For black is the color 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 whereon he stands.
I go to the Clyde, to mourn and weep
For satisfied, I never will be.
I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death, a thousand times!
For black is the color 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 whereon he stands!
And I love the ground whereon he stands!