Black is The Colour - текст песни
Black is The Colour
Black is the colour of my true loveґs hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had 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 and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I neґer 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 loveґs hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
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