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Oh black is the colour of my true love's hair His face is softly, wonder's 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 You on earth, no more I see I can't serve you as you have me The winter's passed and the leaves are green Time has passed that we have seen But still I hope the time will come When you and I shall be as one I go to the Clyde for to mourn, to weep For satisfied I never can sleep I write to you in a few little lines And suffer death ten thousand times Oh black is the colour of my true love's hair His face is soft, wonder's fair The prettiest hopes and the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands From Letras Mania