the french girl

Bob Dylan

Three silver rings
Three silver rings on slim hands waiting
Flash bright in candlelight till 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 waiting
In her warm hideaway, she smiled and combed her hair
We talked of all, we talked of nothing
I left with promises to meet, she told me where
Oh, but she laughed each time I asked her name
Made promises, they're all in vain
But her 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