Oh, I'm sailin' away my own [bad word] love 
I'm sailin' away in the mornin' 
Is there something I can send you from across the sea 
From the place that I'll be landing? 

No, there's nothing you can send me my own [bad word] love. 
There's nothing I'm a-wishin' to be ownin'. 
Just a-carry yourself back to me unspoiled 
from across that lonesome ocean. 

Ah, but I just though you might want something fine 
made of silver or of golden 
either from the mountains of Madrid 
or the coast of Barcelona. 

But if I had the stars from the darkest night 
and the diamonds from the deepest ocean, 
I'd foresake them all for your sweet kiss, 
for that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin' 

But I might be gone a long old time, 
and it's only that I'm askin'. 
Is there something I can send you to remember me by, 
To make your time more easy passin'? 

Oh how can, how can you ask me again? 
It only brings me sorrow. 
The same thing I would want today 
I would want again tomorrow. 

Oh I got a letter on a lonesome day. 
It was from her ship a'sailin'. 
Sayin' "I don't know when I'll [bad word]  back again. 
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'." 

If you my love must think that a'way 
I'm sure your mind is a'roamin'. 
I'm sure your thoughts are not with me 
but with the country to where you're goin'. 

So take heed, take heed of the Western winds. 
Take heed of the stormy weather. 
And yes, there's something you can send back to me: 
Spanish Boots of Spanish Leather.