A Roving - Harry Belafonte

A roving, a roving since roving’s been my ruin

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

In Amsterdam there lives a maid

Mark, well, what I do say

In Amsterdam there lives a maid

And she was mistress of her trade

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

A roving a roving since roving’s been my ruin

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

Her eyes are like two stars so bright

Mark, well, what I do say

Her eyes are like two stars so bright

Her face is soft, her step is light

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

Her cheeks are like the rosebud’s red

Mark, well, what I do say

Her cheeks are like the rosebud’s red

There’s a wealth of hair upon her head

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

A roving, roving, roving, roving, roving’s been my ruin

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid

A roving, a roving since roving’s been my ruin

I’ll go no more a roving from you, fair maid