Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
I wish that day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one
I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can leave
I write her letters just a few short lines
And I suffer death a thousand times

Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands