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 where on she stands.
I love my love and well she knows.
I love the ground where on she goes.
And how I wish the day would come
when she and I can be as one.
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 where on she stands.
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
satisfied I never will sleep.
I 'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times.
.....Fê...Khóc...:))=))
