Black is the Colour
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like a rose so fair
He's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
And I wish the day, the day would come
When he and I will be as one

I walk to the Clyde to mourn and weep
For satisfied I ne'er will sleep
I'll write him a letter, a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
His lips are like a rose so fair
He's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love the ground whereon he stands