Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her lips are like a rose so fair.
She's got the sweetest face 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.
And how I wish the day would come
when she and I can be as one.
Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her lips are like a rose so fair.
She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.
I love the ground whereon she stands.
Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..Oh...whereon she stands..I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
For satisfied I never will sleep.
I 'll 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 a rose so fair.
She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.
I love the ground whereon she stands.
I love the ground whereon she stands.
I love the ground whereon she stands.
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