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 pa**ed and the leaves are green
Time has pa**ed 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 d**h 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