Black is the colour of my true love's hair His lips are like a rose so fair His, the purest eyes and the strongest hands I love the ground whereon he stands I love my love and well he knows That I love the ground on where he goes And still I hope that the time will come When he and I will be as one Black is the colour of my true love's hair His face so soft and wond'rous fair His, the purest eyes and the strongest hands I love the ground on where he stands I go to the clyde and I mourn and weep For satisfied I may never be I write him a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death ten-thousand times