Black is the color of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's got 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 whereon he goes.
I wish the day, it soon would come
When he and I could be as one.
For black is the color of my true love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's got the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,
And I love the ground whereon he stands.

I go to Clyde, and I mourn and weep
For satisfied, I never can be.
And I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death, a thousand times!
For black is the color of my true love's hair
His lips are like red roses fair
He's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands,
And I love the ground whereon he stands!
And I love the ground whereon he stands!