Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like a rose so fair
His, the purest eyes and the strongest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
That I love the ground on where he goes
And still I hope that the time will come
When he and I will be as one
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face so soft and wond'rous fair
His, the purest eyes and the strongest hands
I love the ground on where he stands
I go to the clyde and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I may never be
I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten-thousand times