Black Is The Colour
Pina Kollars, Traditional
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
I love the grounds whereon she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the grounds whereon she goes
I wish the day it soon would come
When she and I can be as one
I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I ne'er can be
I'll 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
I love the grounds whereon she stands
I love the grounds whereon she stands
I love the grounds whereon she stands