Black is the colour of my [bad word] loves hair 
Her lips are like some roses fair 
She has the sweetest smile and 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 that day would [bad word] 
When she and I can be as one 

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep 
For satisfied I never sleep 
I write her letters just a few short lines 
And I suffer death ten thousand times 

Black is the colour of my [bad word] loves hair 
Her lips are like some roses fair 
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands 
And I love the ground whereon he stands 
I love the ground whereon she stands 
I love I love I love the ground whereon she stands