Black is the colour of my true love's hair Her lips are like a rose so fair She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands I love the ground whereon she stands I love my love and well she knows I love the ground whereon she goes And how I whish the day would come When she and I can be as one I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep Satisfied I never will sleep I 'll write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death ten thousand times