Black is the color of my [bad word] 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 [bad word] When she and I will be as one

And black is the color of my [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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