Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.
His lips are something wond'rous fair
The purest eyes and the bravest hands.
I love the grass whereon he stands.
I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes
And if my love no more I see
My life would quickly fade away.
Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Traditional, via Joan Baez
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