Blacks Is the Color of My True Love's Hair - Helen Merrill

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

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

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

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep

But satisfied I never could sleep

I’ll write to you a few short lines

I’ll suffer death one thousand times

So fare you well, my own true love

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

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