Black Is The Color

Am           F    Em            
Black is the color   of my true 
       Am
love's hair

Am          F   Em               
His face is like   some wondrous 
Am
fair

Am                 F   Em       
With the prettiest face   and 
          Am
the neatest hands

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Am         F     Em            
I love the ground   whereon he 
Am
stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
If you know mire and of the sea
I answer you as you have me (?)

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

Black is the color of my true love's
 hair
His face is like some wondrous fair
With the prettiest face and the 
neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands