| Oh, I’m sailin' away my own true love
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| I’m sailin' 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 that I’ll be landing?
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| No, there’s nothin' you can send me, my own true love
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| There’s nothin' I wish to be ownin'
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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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| Made of 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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| Oh, but if I had the stars from 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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| For that’s all I’m wishin' to be ownin'
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| That I might be gone a long time
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| And it’s only that I’m askin'
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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 passin'
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| Oh, how can, how can you ask me again
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| It only brings me sorrow
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| The same thing I want from you today
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| I would want again tomorrow
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| I got a letter on a lonesome day
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| It was from her ship a-sailin'
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| Saying I don’t know when I’ll be comin' back again
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| It depends on how I’m a-feelin'
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| Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way
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| I’m sure your mind is roamin'
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| I’m sure your heart is not with me
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| But with the country to where you’re goin'
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| So take heed, take heed of the western wind
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| Take heed of the stormy weather
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| And yes, there’s something you can send back to me
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| Spanish boots of Spanish leather |