Black Is The Colour

Black is the colour of my true love's hair,

His lips are like some roses fair,

He has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands,

I love the ground, Whereupon he stands.

I love my love and well he knows,

I love the ground, whereon he goes,

I wish the day, it soon would come,

When he & I can be as one.

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep,

For satisfied, I will never be

I write him a letter, just a few short lines,

And suffer death, a thousand times.