Black Is the Colour

Yeah it was 1968
I was doing a gig in the Glasgow Folk Center in Montrosteries
And I didn't go on until about 12 o'clock on a Saturday night
And it was fairly lit
And the fella that went on before me sang this song

And when the concert was over I said,
"Hey, give us that ol' song would you?"
And he did

Black is the colour
Of my true loves hair
Her lips are like
Some rosed 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 to the Clyde
I mourn and weep
Satisfied I never can be

Then I write her a letter
Just a few short lines
And suffer death
A thousand times

For black is the colour
Of my true loves 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

Down by the Clyde one Saturday Night in 1968