Black is the color (of my true love's hair)

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rose's 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,
I wish the day, it soon will come
When she and I could be as one.

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep,
But satisfied I never could sleep.
I'll write a letter, just a few short lines,
Then suffer death a thousand times.

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rose's fair,
I love the ground whereon she stands.