Black is the colour of my true love4s hair, Her lips are like some roses fair. She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands 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. Black is the colour of my true love4s hair, Her lips are like some roses fair. She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands I love the ground whereon she stands. I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep For satisfied I ne4er can be. I write her a letter, just a few short lines, And suffer death a thousand times.