Oh the dames of France are fond and free.
And Flemish lips are willin'.
And so are the maids of Italy.
And Spanish eyes are thrillin'.
Still though I bask beneath their smile, their charms but fail to bind me.
And me heart falls back to where desire to the girl I left behind me.
For she's as fair as Shannon's eye.
And purer than it's water.
And she refused to be my bride though many hear I sought her.
And then to grants I sailed away for her leathers often remind me.
That I promised never to 'gain say the girl I left behind me.
She says my own dear love come home.
My friends are rich and many.
Our lots are broad but you I row on
My heart and I wrote and I answered no
But never shunned my true love breathin'.
Life of war and tiling.
I never has a spoken slave my native land deceiling.
But where it free or to be free that battle close would find me.
To Ireland down like a message me from the girl I left behind me.
Oh the dames of France are fond and free.
And Flemish lips are willin'.
And so are the maids of Italy.
And Spanish eyes are thrillin'.
And though I bask beneath their smile and their charms fail to bind me.
My heart falls back to where desire to the girl I left behind me.
Writer(s): Traditional, Robert Foster
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