Black is the colour of my [bad word] love's hair.
Her face is something  wondrous fair. 
The clearest eyes and the dearest hands, 
I love the grass whereon she stands. 

I love my love and well she knows 
I love the grass whereon she goes, 
And still I hope the time [bad word] 
When she and I will be as one.

Black is the colour of my [bad word] love's hair.
Her face is something  wondrous fair. 
The clearest eyes and the dearest hands, 
I love the grass whereon she stands.