Pausa e esta folk ballad

Depois da "febre" de ontem, uma pausa bem saborosa com este senhor.

A escutar com um cappuccino na mão, uma mantinha sobre as pernas e a outra metade de mim ao lado a rever o "Europa" de Lars von Trier...

«Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows;
I love the ground whereon she goes
I wish the day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one.

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep
Satisfied I never can be
I write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times.

For black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands.»