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The Corrs
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Black Is The Color
Black is the color of my true love's hair. His lips are like some roses fair He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands I love the ground whereon he stands.
I love my love and well he knows, I love the ground whereon he goes, And I wish the day it soon will come That he and I will be as one.
I'll go to the Clyde and I'll mourn and weep, For satisfied I'll ne'er sleep. I'll write him a letter, just a few short lines, I'll suffer death ten thousand times.
(Repeat first line)
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