Black is the colour of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair The sweetest smile the gentelest hands I love the ground where on she stands
I live my love and well she knows I love the ground where on she goes I hope the day will one day come When she and i will be as one
I go to the clyde for to mourn and weep For satisfied i never can be I write her letters, jsut a few short lines And suffer death a thousand times
