ext_226134 (
lanfykins.livejournal.com) wrote in
zg_shadows2007-12-03 10:20 am
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An old Fianna folk song...
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like the rose so rare
She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I saw her first one warm spring night
She shone in the dark like dawn's first light
So sweetly down she laid in bed
And there I took her maidenhead
I writ her name upon my heart
And swore that we would never part
For no ill fate so cruel could be
That it would take my love from me
Black is the colour of my true love's pelt
Her fur the softest silk I've felt
She has the sweetest smile and the bleakest eyes
And better far we both had died
It works much better when sung. Trust me.
Her lips are like the rose so rare
She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
I saw her first one warm spring night
She shone in the dark like dawn's first light
So sweetly down she laid in bed
And there I took her maidenhead
I writ her name upon my heart
And swore that we would never part
For no ill fate so cruel could be
That it would take my love from me
Black is the colour of my true love's pelt
Her fur the softest silk I've felt
She has the sweetest smile and the bleakest eyes
And better far we both had died
It works much better when sung. Trust me.
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