Black Is The Colour

Black is the color of my true love's hair Her lips are like some roses fair She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon she stands I love my love and well she knows I love the ground whereon she goes I wish the day it soon would come When she and I could be as one I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep For satisfied I never can be I'll write her a letter just a few short lines And I owe death a thousand times Black is the color of my true love's hair Her lips are like red roses fair She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands And I love the ground whereon she stands --- Black Is the Colour - Paul Weller