Black is the colour of my [bad word] love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's 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 where on he goes
How I wish the time would [bad word] 
When he and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
for satisfied I'd never sleep
I write him a letter, just a few short lines
And I suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my [bad word] love's hair
His lips are like some roses fair
He's 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 where on he stands