Black is the color of my true love's hair
His face is like some wondrous fair
With the prettiest face and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
If you no more on earth I see,
I can't serve you as you have me
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write him a letter, just a few short lines
I'll suffer d**h one thousand times
Black is the color of my true love's hair
His face is like some wondrous fair
With the prettiest face and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands