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
And I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
I pray the day it soon would come
When he and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
Satisfied I never will be
I write him a letter just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times

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
And I love the ground whereon he stands