Black, Black, Black is the Color
Traditional Appalachian Folk Song
(possibly Scottish in origin)

Black, black, black is the color of my true love’s hair,
His lips are something wondrous fair,
The purest eyes and the bravest of hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.

The winter’s passed and the leaves now again 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.

Black, black, black is the color of my true love’s hair,
His lips are something wondrous fair,
The purest eyes and the bravest of hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.