And black is the colour of my true love's hair His face is something wondrous fair The prettiest eyes 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 on earth no more will see I can't serve you as you have me The winter is past and the leaves are green The time has past that we have seen But still I hope the time will come When you and I will be as one I go to the Clyde for to mourn and to weep But satisfied I never can sleep I'll write to you, in a few little lines And suffer death ten thousand times But black is the colour of my true love's hair His face is something wondrous fair The prettiest eyes and the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands