Black is the color of my true love's hair;

Her lips are like some roses fair;

She's got 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.

For black is the color of my true love's hair;

Her lips are like some roses fair （Some roses fair）;

She's got the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,

And I love the ground whereon she stands.

I go to Clyde, and I mourn and weep;

For satisfied, I never can be.

And I write her a letter, just a few short lines;

And suffer death, a thousand times!

For black is the color of my true love's hair;

Her lips are like red roses fair （Red roses fair）;
She's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,

And I love the ground （ground） whereon she stands! （stands）

For black is the color of my true love's hair;

Her lips are like red roses fair （Red roses fair）;
She's the sweetest smile （smile） and the gentlest hands,

And I love the ground （ground） whereon she stands! （stands）

For black is the color of my true love's hair!