Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands.
And 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 the clyde for to moum 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
Writer(s): Traditional
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