In case you aren't familiar with the song, it is a traditional Scottish Song which somehow found its way to the Southern Appalachians. It was originally about a woman whose lover had failed to return from sea but I have changed the gender of the narrator given I'm the one singing it. Us guys can mourn too, you know....
(My version) of the lyrics:
Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her face is like some rosy fair,
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon she stands.
I love my love and well she knows,
I love the ground whereon she 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.
Black is the colour.
_ _ _ _
* In case you were wondering, the Clyde is a "a river of southwest Scotland flowing about 171 km (106 mi) northwest to the Firth of Clyde, an estuary of the North Channel. The river is navigable to Glasgow for oceangoing vessels." See here.