| Three silver rings on slim hands waiting
|
| Flash bright in candlelight through Sunday’s early morn
|
| We found a room that rainy morning
|
| She took my hand through winding roads and led me home
|
| Some red French wine when later waking
|
| In her warm hideaway, she smiled and combed her hair
|
| She laughed each time I asked her name
|
| Made promises to meet again
|
| But her friends down at the French café
|
| Had no English words for me
|
| So you may find above the border
|
| A girl with silver rings, I never knew her name
|
| You’re bound to lose, she’s too much for you
|
| She’ll leave you lost one rainy morn, you won’t be the same
|
| She laughed each time I asked her name
|
| Made promises to meet again
|
| But her friends down at the French café
|
| Had no English words for me |