Текст песни
Well, black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rose, so fair
She has the sweetest face, she has the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
And how I wish that day would come
When she and I should be as one
Well, I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can be
Well I write her a letter, just a few short lines
And I suffer death a thousand times.
Yes, black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rose, so fair
She has the sweetest face, she has the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands