Black Is The Colour (Of My True Love’s Hair)

It’s amazing how much emotion can go into such a short ballad. This one is originally from Scotland but sung here in a version by Christy Moore.

Black is the colour

Black is the colour of my true love’s hair,
Her lips are like some roses fair,
She’s the sweetest smile, And the gentlest hands,
I love the ground, Whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows,
I love the ground, whereon she goes,
I wish the day, it soon would come,
When she & I could be as one.


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.



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