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

I love my love, 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 mourn and weep
Satisfied, I never can be
I write 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's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands