Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her face is something wond'rous fair
The clearest eyes and the dearest hands.
I love the grass whereon she stands.
I love my love and well she knows,
I love the grass whereon she goes
And still I hope the time will come
When she and I will be as one.
Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her face is something wond'rous fair
The clearest eyes and the dearest hands.
I love the grass whereon she stands.