Black Is The Color

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair
 Her face is something wondrous fair
 Her purest eyes and the daintiest hands
 I love the ground on which she stands
 I love my love and well she knows
 I'll follow her where e'er she goes
 I'll write her a letter containing these lines
 I'll suffer death a thousand times
 Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair
 Her face is something wondrous fair
 Her purest eyes and the daintiest hands
 I love the ground on which she stands
 I'll go to troublesome to mourn, to weep
 But satisfied I ne'er can keep
 If she on earth no more would stay
 My life would quickly fade away
 Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair
 Her face is something wondrous fair
 The purest eyes and the daintiest hands
 I love the grass on which she stands