Black is the Color
Traditional

But black is the color of my true love’s hair,
Her face is like some lilly fair,
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon she stands.

I love my love, and well she knows,
I love the ground whereon she 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 love my love and well she knows,
I love the grass whereon she goes.
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon she stands.