Gregory Porter —
Black Is the Color (of My True Love’s Hair)

Traditional Folk Song

Black, black, black
Is the color of my true love’s hair.
Her lips are like some roses fair,
She has the sweetest smile and gentlest hands,
I love the ground
Whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows,
I love the ground whereon she goes,
I wish the day it soon would come
When she and I
Could be as one.

I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep,
But satisfied I never could sleep.
I’ll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times.

Black is the color of my true love’s hair.
Her lips are like some roses fair,
I love the ground whereon she stands.