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Black Is The Colour
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Paul Weller
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1
Black is the color of my true love's hair
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Her lips are like some roses fair
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She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
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And I love the ground whereon she stands
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I love my love and well she knows
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I love the ground whereon she goes
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I wish the day it soon would come
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When she and I could be as one
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I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep
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For satisfied I never can be
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I'll write her a letter just a few short lines
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And I owe death a thousand times
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Black is the color of my true love's hair
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Her lips are like red roses fair
15
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
16
And I love the ground whereon she stands
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