There are lassies who've loved you
As lassies well should,
And ladies who'd die for one
Touch of your hand.
There are maidens in Marfa
And far Kelebrind
Who would follow your footsteps to any far land.
They could lay at your feet
Piles of riches:
Silver, and sapphires and diamonds like dew.
But, what can I offer?
A poor tavern singer
Whose heart is but one that longs only for you…
There are those who'd love you more than silver,
And those who'd love you more than jewels.
There are those who'd see what I offer
And brand me much more than a fool.
There are those who'd love you more than diamonds
More than necklaces, baubles and rings.
But, my dear, I love you more than whiskey
And that's got to count for something.
There are delicate damsels
Sighing delicate sighs
For one stolen glimpse of
The fire in your gaze.
There are thousands of lovers
In thousands of lands
More than willing to love you in thousands of ways.
They could weave you sweet wishes,
Promise you every
Desire or dream that runs through your veins.
But what can I offer?
A poor tavern singer
Who longs for you like the desert longs for the rains.
There are those who'd love you more than silver,
And those who'd love you more than jewels.
There are those who'd see what I offer
And brand me much more than a fool.
There are those who'd love you more than diamonds
More than necklaces, baubles and rings.
But, my dear, I love you more than whiskey
And that's got to count for something.
There are ladies in waiting
And queens on their thrones
Who would give all they posses for
A single soft word.
And they would be for you
Whatever you wish
As fierce as a lion, as sweet as a bird.
They could tempt you with smiles,
Sweet, breathy whispers.
Conceal a fierce hunger behind a sweet kiss.
But what can I offer?
A poor tavern singer.
No riches or gold, but I promise you this…
There are those who'd love you more than silver,
And those who'd love you more than jewels.
There are those who'd see what I offer
And brand me much more than a fool.
There are those who'd love you more than diamonds
More than necklaces, baubles and rings.
But, my dear, I love you more than whiskey
And that's got to count for something.
I could say I love you more than starlight,
And the cold crystal light of the moon.
I could say I love you more than summer
And the emerald shadows of June.
But, my love, all these words are just echoes
Of what others have told you before,
So I'll say I love you more than whiskey
For no one could quite love you more.