The Corrs - Black is the colour

Bl^Cack is ^Dthe colour of my tru^Eme loves hair Hi^Cs lipes ar^De like some ros^Emes fair He^C has the^D sweetest smile an^Emd the gentlest hands An^Amd I love t^Bmhe ground whe^Emreon he stands I ^Clove my ^Dlove and well he^Em knows I ^Clove the ^Dground whe^Emreon he goes I ^Cwish that ^Dday would s^Emoon come Wh^Amen he and ^BmI can be as ^Emone

I ^Cgo to the ^DClyde and I mou^Emrn and weep Fo^Cr satisfie^Dd I never^Em sleep I ^Cwrite him lette^Drs just a^Em few short lines An^Cd suffe^Dr death ten thous^Emand times

Bl^Cack is the c^Dolour of my^Em true loves hair Hi^Cs lips are li^Dke some ros^Emes fair He^C has the sweet^Dest smile a^Emnd the gentlest hands An^Amd I love the^Bm ground where^Emon he stands I ^Amlove the grou^Bmnd whereon he s^Emtands I ^Amlove I love ^BmI love the groun^Emd whereon he stands