Black is the colour - Lyrics - Elane

Black ist the colour of my true love's hair his face is like some roses fair he has the sweetest face and the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands I love my love and well he know I love the ground whereon he goes I wish the day it soon would come when he and I could be as one I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep for satisfied I ne'er can be I write him a letter, just a few short lines and suffer death a thousand times I love my love and well he know I love the ground whereon he goes he's got the stweetest face, the neatest hands I love the ground whereone he stands