Black is the colour of my [bad word] loves hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
I wish that day would [bad word] When he and I can be as one

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

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