Boots Of Spanish Leather
Bob Dylan
Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you
From across the sea
From the place that I'll be landing?
No, there's nothin' you can send me
My own true love
There's nothin' I'm wishin' to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean
Oh, but I just thought
You might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.