black is the colour of my true love''''s hair,
her lips are like some roses'''' fair,
and the sweetest smile,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.
and i whish the day soon would come,
when she and i would be as one.
......

i go to the Clyde and mourn and weep,
be satisfied , will never sleep.
i''''ll write her a letter, just a few short lines,
and suffer death ten thousand times.
black is the colour of my true love''''s hair.
her lips are like some roses'''' fair,
and the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands.
i love the ground whereon she stands
......