No, there's nothing you can
bring me my own true love.
There's nothing I wish to
be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to
me unspoiled
from across that lonesome
ocean.
Well I just though you might
want something fine
made of silver or of golden
either from the mountains
of Madrid
or the coast of Barcelona.
If I had the stars from the
darkest night
and the diamonds from the
deepest ocean,
I'd foresake them all for
your sweet kiss,
for that's all I'm wishin'
to be ownin'
That I might be gone a long
old time,
and it's only that I'm askin'.
Is there something I can give
you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy
passin'?
Oh how can, how can you ask
me again?
It only brings me sorrow.
For the same thing that I
want from you today
I would want again tomorrow.
Well I got a letter on a lonesome
day.
It was from her ship a'sailin'.
Sayin' "I don't know when
I'll be comin' back again.
It depends on how I'm feelin'."
Well if you my love must think
that a'way
I'm sure your mind is a'roamin'.
I'm sure your heart is not
with me
but with the country where
you're goin'.
So take heed, take heed of
the Western wind.
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something
you can send back to me;
SPANISH BOOTS OF SPANISH LEATHER.
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |