Black is the Color
Black black black
Is the color of my true love's hair
His eyes are something wondrous fair
The nicest face and the strongest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
If he on earth no more I see
My life would quickly fade away
I go to troublesome to mourn to weep
But satisfied I ne'er can sleep
I write him a note in a few little lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black black black
Is the color of my true love's hair
Writer/s: . TRADITIONAL, DAMIEN GEORGE RICE
