07 Black is the Colour (trad)

Black is the Colour Trad

Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
He lips are like a rose so fair
She’s got the sweetest face, and the gentlest hands
I love the ground on where she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the round where on she goes
And how I wish the day would come
When she and I can be as one

I go to the glade to mourn and weep
To satisfy and endless sleep
I wrote her a letter, just a few short lines
Then suffered death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love’s hair
Her lips are like a rose so fair
She’s got the sweetest face, and the gentlest hands
I love the ground on where she stands