Black Is the Color

Black is the colour
of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile
and the gentlest hands
And i love the ground where on she stands
I go to the Clyde
where i mourn and weep
For satisfied i never can be
I write her a letter
just a few short lines
and suffer death a thousand times
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile
and the gentlest hands
And i love the ground where on she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground where on she goes
And i wish the day it soon would come
when she and i could be as one