Оригинален текст
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I love my love, and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
I wish the day soon would come
When she and I will be as one
And black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
But satisfied I never shall be
I'll write her a letter with a few short lines
and suffer death a thousand times
And black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I love the ground whereon she stands
I love the ground whereon she stands