Arborea — Black Is the Colour

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Black, black, black is the colour of my true love’s hair
His face is something wondrous fair
The clearest eyes and the strongest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
And if he on earth no more I see
My life would quickly wean, wean

I go to the Clyde to mourn, to weep
For satisfied I ne’er can sleep
I’ll write you a letter in a few short lines
I suffer death ten thousand times

Black, black, black is the colour of my true love’s hair

Black, black, black is the colour of my true love’s hair

His face is something wondrous fair
The clearest eyes and the strongest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
Black, black, black is the colour of my true love’s hair