black is the colour of my true love s hair her lips are like some roses fair she has the sweetest smile and 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 i wish the day it soon would come when she and i could be as one i go the clyde and i mourn and weep for satisfied i never can be i write her a letter just a few short lines and suffer death a thousand times black is the colour of my true love s hair her lips are like some roses fair she has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands and i love the ground whereon she stands
['celtic', 'irish folk']