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Bill Staines

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Bill Staines

The French Girl

Three silver rings on slim hands waving,
Flashed bright in candlelight on Sunday's early morn.
We found her room that rainy morning
She took my hand through winding roads and led me home

Some red French wine, when later waking,
In her warm hideaway, she laughed and combed her hair.
We talked of all, we talked of nothing,
I left with promises to meet, she told me where.

But she laughed each time I asked her name
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Vague promises to meet again,
But our friends down at the French café,
Had no English words for me.

So you may find, above the border,
A girl with silver rings, I never knew her name.
You're bound to lose, she's too much for you,
She'll leave you lost some rainy morn,
You won't be the same, you won't be the same.