Black Is the Color - Wye Oak

Black black black

Is the color of my true love’s hair

His face is something wondrous fair

The purest eyes and the strongest hands

I love the ground on which he stands

I love my love and well he knows

I follow him wherever he goes

I write him a letter, can’t sing him these lines

I’ll suffer death a thousand times

Black black black

Is the color of my true love’s hair

His face is something wondrous fair

The purest eyes and the strongest hands

I love the ground on which he stands

I’ll go to Troublesome to mourn, to weep

But satisfied I’ll never keep

If he on earth no more would stay

My life will quickly fade away

Black black black

Is the color of my true love’s hair

His face is something wondrous fair

The purest eyes and the strongest hands

I love the ground on which he stands

Black black black

Is the color of my true love’s hair