Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is like some wonders fair
With the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
And if my fate and fortune be
I would have you as you have me
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
Satisfied I ne'er can sleep
Write him a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is like some wonders fair
With the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love . .
I love the ground whereon he stands