Black Is The Colour Of My True Love's Hair
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's 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 grass whereon she goes.
But I know the day it never will come
when she and I will be as one.
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
and suffer death ten thousand times
I know my love and well she knows
I love the grass whereon she goes
If she on earth no more I see
My life will quickly fade away