Chorus: Black is the colour of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair The sweetest smile and the gentlest hands I love the ground where on she stands
I love my love and well she knows I love the ground where on she goes I wish the day soon will come When she and I will be as one
Chorus
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep For satisfied I never can be I write her letters, just a few short lines and suffer death a thousand times