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 I love the ground whereon she stands I love my love and well she knows I love the grounds whereon she goes I wish the day it soon would come When she and I can be as one I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep For satisfied I ne’er can be I write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death a thousand times 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 grounds whereon she stands I love the grounds whereon she stands