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Amy Annelle
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Black Is the Color
oh black is the color of my true love's hair
his face is something wondrous fair
the prettiest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love as well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
but if you on earth no more i can see
I can't serve you as you have me
the winter's passed and the leaves are green
the time has passed that we have seen
but still I hope the day will come
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when you and I will be as one
I go to the clyde to mourn to weep
unsatisfied, I never can sleep
so i write to you in a few short lines
'I'll suffer death ten thousand times'
oh black is the color of my true love's hair
his face is something wonderous fair
the prettiest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands
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