| 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 |
