Oh, black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is like some roses fair
He's the prettiest lips and sweetest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
You on Earth, no more I see
The glance of you, that you have me


I went to past and the leaves are green
Time has passed that we have seen
Still I hope the time will come
When you and I shall be as one

I go to the Clyde for to mourn, to weep
Satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write to you in a few, few lines
And suffer death ten thousand times


Oh, black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is like some roses fair
He's the prettiest lips and the sweetest hands
I love the ground wheron he stands