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

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