Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are wondrous rosy fair
Prettiest face, loveliest hands
I'm in awe of her for the way she stands

I love my love, and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
I wish the day soon would come
When she and I will be as one

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are wandrous rousy fair
Prettiest face, loveliest hands
I'm in awe of her for the way she stands

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
But satisfied I shall never be
I'll write her a letter with a few short lines
and suffer death a thousand times

And black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are wandrous rosy fair
Prettiest face, loveliest hands
I'm in awe of her for the way she stands
I'm in awe of her for the wy she stands
I'm in awe of her for the way she stands.