Black Is The Colour

And black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is something wondrous fair
The prettiest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
If you on earth no more will see
I can't serve you as you have me

The winter is past and the leaves are green
The time has past that we have seen
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I will be as one

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and to weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write to you, in a few little lines
And suffer death ten thousand times

But black is the colour of my true love's hair
His face is something wondrous fair
The prettiest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands