Black is the color of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair She has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands And 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 soon would come When she and I will be as one
And black is the color of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair She has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon she stands
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep But satisfied I never shall be I'll write her a letter with a few short lines and suffer death a thousand times
Black is the color Black is the color Black is the color Black is the color
