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Black Is The Color

 Black is the color of my true love's hair

Her lips are like a rose so fair.

She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.
I love the ground whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows.
I love the ground whereon she goes.
And how I whish the day would come
when she and I can be as one.

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
satisfied I never will sleep.
I 'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times. 

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возможно я излишне обусловлен, но со времен жизни в Ирландии для меня эта песня связывается только с мужским голосом:-)

а вот на мой вкус одна из лучших современных интерпретаций

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