Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her lips
Blue mountain river, if only for a while,
Take me to
It being in the springtime and the small birds they
As I was a'walking one evening of late
Where fragrant fine
Green grows the laurel, soft falls the dew,
Sorry was I
I am a youth inclined to ramble,
To some foreign country
Leaving sweet lovely Derry for fair London town,
There is no
She's like a swallow that flies so high,
Like the river
As the lonesome scenes of winter in stormy winds so
My song for you this evening
Is not to make you
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips
"Oh rise up my darling and come with me
I want
Bonny, bonny was my seat in the red, rosy yard
And
One night as I lay slumbering in my silent bed
I will not forget all the things I haven't said
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