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Celtic Fire
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Black Is The Colour
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
His lips are like a rose so fair
He's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
And I wish the day, the day would come
When he and I will be as one
will be as one
I walk to the Clyde to mourn and weep
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For satisfied I ne'er will sleep
I'll write him a letter, a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
His lips are like a rose so fair
He's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love the ground whereon he stands
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