I

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

 II

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

 III

 I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep.
 For satisfied I ne'er can be.
 I write her a letter, just a few short lines,
 And suffer death a thousand times.

 (traditional)