Black Is The Color Espers

Black is the color of my true love's hair

His face is like some wondrous fair

With the prettiest face and the neatest hands

I love the ground whereon he stands

I love my love

And well he knows

I love the ground whereon he goes

If you know mark on earth I see

I counciled you as you have me

I go to the clyde for to mourn and weep

But satisfied I never can sleep

I write him a letter just a few short lines

I suffer death one thousand times

black is the color of my true love's hair

His face is like some wondrous fair

With the prettiest face and the neatest hands

I love the ground whereon he stands