John Jacob Niles:
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
(Recital, Track 17)

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are something rosy fair
The pertest face and the daintiest hands.
I love the grass whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows
I love the grass whereon she goes.
If she on earth no more I see
My life will quickly leave me.

I go to troublesome to mourn, to weep,
But satisfied I ne'er can sleep;
I'll write her a note in a few little lines,
I'll suffer death ten thousand times.

The pertest face and the daintiest hands.
I love the grass whereon she stands.