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Вершы: The Corrs. 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
And I love the ground whereon he stands
I love my love and well he knows
I love the ground whereon he goes
I only wish that the day would come
When he and I would be as one

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
For satisfied I'll never sleep
I write him letters just a few short lines

And I suffer death ten thousand times

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
And I love the ground whereon he stands
I love the ground whereon he stands
I love I love I love the ground whereon he stands