Текст песни Black Is The Color

Black is the color of My true love's hair His face is like some wondrous fair With the prettiest face And the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands I love my love And well he knows I love the ground whereon he goes If you know mark on earth I see I counciled you as you have me I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep But satisfied I never can sleep I'll write him a letter Just a few short lines I'll suffer death one thousand times Black is the color of My true love's hair His face is like some wondrous fair With the prettiest face And the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands