Words and Music Traditional 

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.
I wish the day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one

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 go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can be
I write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death a ten thousand times

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