Black Is the Colour

Black Is The Colour - Tommy Fleming

Black is the colour of my true love's hair

Her lips are like some roses fair

She has the sweetest face

And the gentlest hands

And I love the ground where on she stands

I love my love and well she knows

I love the ground where on she goes

And how I wish the day would come

When she and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep

For satisfied I can never be

And the I write her a letter just a few short lines

And suffer death a thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love's hair

Her lips are like a rose so fair

She has the sweetest face

And the gentlest hands

And I love the ground where on she stands

I love the ground where on she stands

I love the ground where on she stands