2010年12月9日

Black is The Colour




Traditonal
Black is the colour of my love’s hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile
and the gentlest 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 soon would come
When she and I will be as one
I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
But satisfied I never shall be
I’ll write her a letter just a few short lines
and suffer death a thousand times

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