Black Is The Colour - The Popes

Black is the colour of my true love’s hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He’s the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows

I love the ground where on he goes

How I wish the time would soon come

When he and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep

for satisfied I’d never sleep

I write him a letter, just a few short lines

And I suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love’s hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He’s the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he stands

I love the ground whereon he stands

I love, I love, I love the ground where on he stands