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BLACK IS THE COLOUR.
1. But black is the colour of my true-love's hair, His face is like some rosy fair;
The prettiest face and the neatest hands. I love the ground whereon he stands.
2. I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes. If you no more on earth I see, I can't serve you as you have me.
3. The winter's passed and the leaves are green, The time is passed that we have seen,
But still I hope the time will come When you and I shall be as one.
4. I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep, But satisfied I never could sleep.
I'll write to you in a few short lines, I'll suffer death ten thousand times.
5. My own true love, so fare you well,
The time has passed, but I wish you well; But still I hope the time will come When you and I will be as one.
6. I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes; The prettiest face, the neatest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands.