I come from the land of the Wessex Downs,
From the Hampshire Valleys near Winchester Town,
In the country where the soft south rivers flow down
To the English channel I roam,
And this is where I call home.
I sing for my supper and I'm pretty well fed,
I cross this island and I make my bed
Where I can find a crowd and somewhere to lay my head
When my travelling day is done,
And all my songs have been sung.
But honey I was lonely on the road,
I was all on my own,
Hanging out sad at the back of a death metal show.
I saw you standing there with your hair down low,
A kink in your step that made me want to know
If you would like to take me home.
And who'd have thought that a french kiss from a Parisian girl
Could capture an English boy.
She comes from the channel's other distant shore,
From the land of revolution and of agincourt,
From a king's bloodstain on a tricolour,
And a culture a little too high
For an English boy like me.
She doesn't know the island I grew up upon,
The valleys and the rivers that I've roamed along,
And she doesn't like my clothes and she doesn't like my songs,
But she's still my mademoiselle,
And "It goes to show you never can tell."
Because she was a quiet one,
She was a shy one,
She was the prettiest at the show.
But she crept up so slyly,
Crept up behind me,
But still she pretended that she didn't know.
But oh then she fixed me,
And then she kissed me,
And she's yet to let me go,
And though I'm far away across the sea,
I'm singing for the hope that she will ever remember me.
So honey when you're lonely on the rooad
And you're all on your own,
Hanging out sad at the back of the country show,
Picture me there with my hat down low,
A smile upon my face to let you know
That I would like to take you home,
I would like to take you home
To the hills that I know,
I would like to take you home to the place I go,
I would like to take you home,
And that's the way that a french kiss from an English boy can capture a Parisian Girl.
Writer(s): Francis Edward Turner
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