Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like a rose so fair
She's got the sweetest face 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
And how I wish the day'd soon come
When she and I may be as one
I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
'Til satisfied I ne'er will sleep
I write her a letter just a few short lines
And I'll suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like a rose so fair
She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands