Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and oh well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
My only wish that the day would come
When he and I would be as one
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
For satisfied I ne'er will be
So I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
Whereon he stands

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN