Cara Dillon Black is the colour

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 whereon she stands. I love my love and well she knows. I love the ground whereon she goes. And how I whish 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 whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. ou whereon she stands. I go to the Clyde and mourn and deep satisfied I never will sleep. I#ll write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer 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 whereon she stands. I love the ground whereon she stands. I love the ground whereon she stands.