Black is the colour of my true love´s hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the neatest hands
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

I go to the Clyde and for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I wrote her a letter just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love´s hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the neatest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands