The French Girl - Ian & Sylvia

Three silver rings on slim hands waiting

Flash bright in candlelight through Sunday’s early morn

We found a 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 smiled and combed her hair

She laughed each time I asked her name

Made promises to meet again

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 one rainy morn, you won’t be the same

She laughed each time I asked her name

Made promises to meet again

But her friends down at the French café

Had no English words for me