paul weller - black is the colour
TRANSCRIPT
BLACK IS THE COLOUR
Black is the color of my true love's hairHer lips are like some roses fairShe has the sweetest smile and the gentlest handsAnd I love the ground whereon she stands
I love my love and well she knowsI love the ground whereon she goesI wish the day it soon would comeWhen she and I could be as one
I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weepFor satisfied I never can beI'll write her a letter just a few short linesAnd I owe death a thousand times
Black is the color of my true love's hairHer lips are like red roses fairShe has the sweetest smile and the gentlest handsAnd I love the ground whereon she stands