A-rovin' on a winter's night
And a-drinkin' good old wine
Thinkin' about that pretty little girl
That broke this heart of mine

She is just like a bud of rose
That blooms in the month of June
Or like some musical instrument
That's just been lately tuned

Perhaps it's a trip to a foreign land
A trip to France or Spain
But if I should go ten thousand miles
I'm a-comin' back again

And it's who's a-gonna shoe your poor little feet
Who's a-gonna glove your little hands?
Who's a-gonna kiss your sweet little lips
Honey, who's a-gonna be your man?

I'll love you 'til the sea runs dry
And the rocks all melt in the sun
I'll love you 'til the day I die
Though you will never be my own

A-rovin' on a winter's night
And a-drinkin' good old wine
Thinkin' about that pretty little girl
That broke this heart of mine