Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair Black is the color of my true love's hair His lips are like some rosy 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 grass whereon he goes. If you no more on earth I'd see My life will quikly fade away I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep but satisfied I never could sleep; I'll write for you a few short lines and I'd suffer death ten thousand times. The winter's passed and the leaves are green the time is gone that we have seen. Still I long for the day to come When you and I will be as one. Black is the color of my true love's hair His lips are like some rosy fair With the prettiest face and the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands. |