Black is the color

Black is the color 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 ground whereon she goes.
And I wish the day, it soon will come
That she and I will be as one

I’ll go to the Clyde and I’ll mourn and weep
Where satisfied I never shall be
I’ll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times

Traditional

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