Black is the color of my true love's hair;
Her lips are like some roses fair;
She's got 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 the day, it soon would come;
When she and I could be as one.
For black is the color of my true love's hair;
Her lips are like some roses fair (Some roses fair);
She's got the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,
And I love the ground whereon she stands.
I go to Clyde, and I mourn and weep;
For satisfied, I never can be.
And I write her a letter, just a few short lines;
And suffer death, a thousand times!
For black is the color of my true love's hair;
Her lips are like red roses fair (Red roses fair);
She's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,
And I love the ground (ground) whereon she stands! (stands)
For black is the color of my true love's hair;
Her lips are like red roses fair (Red roses fair);
She's the sweetest smile (smile) and the gentlest hands,
And I love the ground (ground) whereon she stands! (stands)
For black is the color of my true love's hair!

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