Traditional Folk in two styles
Lyrics
Black is the color of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
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 grass whereon he goes
But I know the day it never will come
When he and I will be as one
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I ne'er can sleep
I'll write him a letter just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Death ten thousand times
I know my love and well he knows
I love the grass whereon he goes
If he on earth no more I see
My life will quickly fade away
Life will fade away
Black is the color of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
The sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
Ground whereon he stands