Black Is The Colour
traditional Schotland, adpt. Jan Willems Schijndel
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the gentelest hands
And 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 and i would be as one
I go to the clyde and i mourn and weep
For satisfied i ne'er can be
I wrote her a letter just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times
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internetbronnen
Christie Moore:
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the gentelest hands
And i love the ground whereon she stands
The Corrs:
Black is the colour of my true loves hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She had the sweetest smile and the gentelest hands
And i love the ground whereon she stands
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ook:
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write to you in a few short lines
I'll suffer death ten thousand times
I know my love and well she knows
I love the grass whereon she goes
If she on earth no more I see
My life will quickly fade away
A winter's past and the leaves are green
The time has past that we have seen
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I will be as one
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands