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.