ShenDoes not know her beautynShe thinks her brown, bonynHas no glorynIf she could dance nakednUnder palm treesnAnd see her imagenIn a rivernShe would know, she would knownnBut there are no palm treesnIn the streetnAnd dishwater gives back no imagesnGives back no imagesnnBlack is the colornOf my true love's hairnHis face so soft and wondrousnThe purest eyesnAnd the strongest handsnI love the ground on where he standsnI love the ground on where he standsnnBlack is the colornOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hairnnI love my lovernAnd well, he knowsnI love the ground on where he goesnI love the ground on where he goesnI love the ground on where he goesnI love the ground on where he goesnnBlack is the colornOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hairnStill, I hopenThat the time will comenWhen he and I will be as onenHe and I will be as onenHe and I will be as onenHe and I will be as onenHe and I will be as onennBlack is the colornOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hairnOf my true love's hair