Christy Moore - Black Is the Colour

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands
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 & I could be as one

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands
I love the ground, Whereon she stands
I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
For satisfied, I ne'er 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's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands
I love the ground, Whereon she stands