Black is the colour
Of my [bad word] love's hair
Her lips are like rose so fair
She's got the sweetest face
And the gentlest hugs
I love the ground whereon she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
But I wish the day [bad word] 
When she and I can be as one...

As one...
As one...
Can be...
Can be...

Can be...
As one...
As one...

Black is the colour
Of my [bad word] love's hair
Her lips are like rose so fair
She's got the sweetest face
And the gentlest hugs
I love the ground whereon she stands

Whereon she stands...
Whereon she stands...

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
But satisfied I never could sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my [bad word] love's hair
Her lips are like rose so faïr
She's got the sweetest face
And the gentlest hugs
I love the ground whereon she stands

Whereon she stands...
Whereon she stands...
Whereon she stands...
Whereon she stands...