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Oh I'm sailing away, my own true love |
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I'm sailing away in the morning |
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Is there something I can send you from across the sea? |
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From the place where I'll be landing? |
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There's nothing you can send me, my own true love |
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There's nothing I'm wishing to be owning |
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Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled |
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From across that lonesome ocean |
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Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine |
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Maybe silver or of golden |
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Either from the mountains of Madrid |
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Or from the coast of Barcelona |
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If I had the stars of the darkest night |
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And the diamonds from the deepest ocean |
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I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss |
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That's all I wish to be owning |
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Oh, I might be gone a long ol' time |
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And it's only that I'm asking |
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Is there something I can send you to remember me by? |
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To make your time more easy passing? |
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How can, how can you ask me again? |
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Well it only brings me sorrow |
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Oh, the same thing I would want today |
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I would want again tomorrow |
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Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day |
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It was from his ship a-sailing |
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Saying, I don't know when I'll be coming back again |
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It depends on how I'm feeling |
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If you, my love, must think that away |
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I'm sure your mind is a-roaming |
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I'm sure your thoughts are not with me |
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But with the country where you're going |
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So take heed, take heed of the western wind |
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Take heed of stormy weather |
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And yes, there is something you can send back to me |
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Spanish boots of Spanish leather |
