Black Is The Colour

Black Is The Colour
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
his lips are like some roses fair
has the sweetest face and the neatest hands
I love the ground where on he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground where on he goes
I wish the day it soon would come
when he and I could be as one

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
for satisfied I neer can be
I write him a letter, just a few short lines
and suffer death a thousand times
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground where on he goes
I wish the day it soon would come
when he and I could be as one