Black is the color of my [bad word] love's hair
His face is like some rosy fair
The prettiest face and the neatest hands
I love the ground on where he stands

I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground on whereon he goes
If you no more on earth I see,
I can't serve you as you have me

The winters passed and the leaves are green
the time is passed that we have seen
But still I hope the day [bad word] when you and I will be as one

I go to the Clyde for the mourn and weep,
but satisfied I never could sleep
I write you a few short lines
I'll suffer death ten thousnad times

So fare thee well my ain [bad word] love
The time has passed but I wish you well
But still I hope the day [bad word] When you and I wil be as one.

Black is the color of my [bad word] love's hair