Black is the Colour
Trad.
| Am | F | G | | Am |
| Black is the | colour - | | of my true love's | hair. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| Her lips are like | some - | | roses | fair. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| She's the sweetest | smile - | | and the gentlest | hands. |
| F | G | | Am |
| I love the | ground - | | where on she | stands. |
| Am | F | G | | Am |
| I love my | love - | | well she | knows. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| I love the | ground - | | where on she | goes. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| I wish the | day - | | it soon would | come |
| F | G | | Am |
| When she and | I - | | could be as | one. |
| Am | F | G | | Am |
| I go to the | Clyde - | | and mourn and | weep. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| Satis | fied - | | I never can | be. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| I write her a | letter, - | | just a few short | lines - |
| F | G | | Am |
| And suffer | death - | | a thousand | times. |
| Am | F | G | | Am |
| For | Black is the | colour - | | of my true love's | hair. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| Her lips are | like - | | some roses | fair. |
| F | G | | E7 |
| She's the sweetest | smile - | | and the gentlest | hands. |
| F | G | | Am |
| I love the | ground - | | where on she | stands. |
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