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