| Black, black, black
|
| Is the color of my true love’s hair
|
| Her lips are like a rose so fair
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| And the prettiest face and the neatest hands.
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| I love the grass whereon she stands
|
| She with the wondrous hair.
|
| Black, black, black
|
| Is the color of my true love’s hair
|
| Her face is something truly rare.
|
| Oh I do love my love and so well she knows
|
| I love the ground whereon she goes.
|
| She with the wondrous hair.
|
| Black, black, black
|
| Is the color of my true love’s hair
|
| Alone, my life would be so bare.
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| I would sigh, I would weep,
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| I would never fall asleep
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| My love is 'way beyond compare
|
| She with the wondrous hair.
|
| Black, black, black
|
| Is the color of my true love’s hair |