Black is the colour

Black is the colour         Trad.

Black is the colour of my true love's hair.

His lips are like some roses fair.

He has the sweetest hands and the gentilest hands.

I love the ground whereon he stands.


I love my love and well he knows

I love the ground whereon he goes.

I pray the day it soon will come

When he and I will be as one.


I'll go to the Clyde and I'll mourn and weep

For satisfied I never can be.

 I'll write him a letter just a few short lines

And suffer death a thousand time.

repete verse 1.




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