Black Is the Colour

Black is the colour of my true love's hair, Her lips are like some roses fair, She's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands, 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 & I could be as one. Black is the colour of my true love's hair, Her lips are like some roses fair, She's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands, I love the ground, Whereon she stands. I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep, For satisfied, I ne'er can be, 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 some roses fair, She's the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands, I love the ground, Whereon she stands. --- Black Is the Colour - Christy Moore