Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and 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, it soon would come
When she and I could be as one
I go the Clyde, I mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can be
And then I write her a letter, just a few short lines
And I suffer death a thousand times
For black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands
