Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rose so fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest 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 might come
When she and I might be as one

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

I'll go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
Where satisfied I never shall be
I write her a letter, just a few short lines
I suffer death ten thousand times

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