± BPM (tempo): ♩ = 138 beats per minute
Black, black, black Is the color of my true love’s hair. Her lips are like some roses fair, She has the sweetest smile and gentlest hands, 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 it soon would come When she and I Could be as one. I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep, But satisfied I never could sleep. I’ll write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death a thousand times. Black is the color of my true love’s hair. Her lips are like some roses fair, I love the ground whereon she stands.