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Black is the Colour (2) But Black is the colour of my true love's hair. His face is like some rosy fair, The prettiest face 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 no more on earth I see, I can't serve you as you have me. The winter's passed and the leaves are green The time is passed that we have seen, But still I hope the time will come When you and I shall be as one. I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep, But satisfied I never could sleep, I'll write to you a few short lines I'll suffer death ten thousand times. So fare you well, my own true love The time has passed, but I wish you well. But still I hope the time will come When you and I will be as one. I love my love and well he knows I love the ground whereon he goes, The prettiest face, the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands. From English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, Sharp Collected from Mrs. Lizzie Roberts, NC 1916 RG
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