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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyrics:
by Bob Dylan (arr)
Well met, well met, my own true love Well met, well met, cried she I've just returned from the salt, salt sea And it's all for the love of thee
I could have married a King's daughter there She would have married me But I have forsaken my King's daughter there It's all for the love of thee
Well, if you could have married a King's daughter there I'm sure you're the one to blame For I am married to a house carpenter And I'm sure he's a fine young man
Forsake, forsake your house carpenter And come away with me I'll take you where the green grass grows On the shores of sunny Italy
So up she picked her babies three And gave them kisses, one, two, three Saying 'take good care of your daddy while I'm gone And keep him good company.'
Well, they were sailin' about two weeks I'm sure it was not three When the younger of the girls, she came on deck Sayin' she wants company
'Well, are you weepin' for your house and home? Or are you weepin' for your babies three?' 'Well, I'm not weepin' for my house carpenter I'm weepin' for my babies three.'
Oh what are those hills yonder, my love They look as white as snow Those are the hill of heaven, my love You and I'll never know
Oh what are those hills yonder, my love They look as dark as night Those are the hills of hell-fire my love Where you and I will unite
Oh twice around went the gallant ship I'm sure it was not three When the ship all of a sudden, it sprung a leak And it drifted to the bottom of the sea
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