Black Is the Colour - The Corrs

Black is the colour of my true loves hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the

sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love and well he knows

I love the ground whereon he goes

I wish that day would soon come

When he and I can be as one

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep

For satisfied I never sleep

I write him letters just a few short lines

And I suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true loves hair

His lips are like some roses fair

He has the

sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground where on he stands

I love the ground where on he stands

I love I love

I love the ground where on he stands