Boots Of Spanish Leather Poem by gershon hepner

Oh, from your own true love I fear that you’re sailin’,
you are sailin’ away far from me in the mornin’,
and when you are gone, my true heart will start failin’,
and I’ll feel morose, and start mopin’ and mournin’.

I think of the clothes that you’re wearing, so slinky,
the jewels you wrap round your hands and your neck;
the boots of fine leather you wear are so slinky
you look like a million or more––a blank check.

Don’t ask if there’s anything that you can send me;
there’s nothing of yours that I want to be ownin’
except your deaf ear which I hope you will lend me
one day without e-mail, when you think of phonin’.

You think I might want something fine made of gold,
an etching perhaps, or a precious antique;
I don’t, for I don’t want a gift that is cold,
it’s only your heart that was warm once I seek.

If I owned a mansion or diamonds I’d
trade them in for a kiss like the ones we once shared,
and now that the romance between us has died
I’ll kiss off your gifts so I won’t be ensnared.

The wind that is westerly blows you away,
there won’t be an eastern one sending you back;
the skies are bright blue but to me they look gray,
I think of your presence, of absence no lack.

Since your mind is a roamin’ my own must depart
from where we made love, and stop wonderin’ whether
you’re thinkin’ my thoughts even though we’re apart,
still wearin’ your boots made of fine Spanish leather.


Inspired by Bob Dylan’s Boots of Spanish Leather, ” which at Cambridge University was given as a text to students who were asked to compare and contrast it to Amy Winehouse’s “Love is a Losing Game” and Walter Raleigh’s “As You Came From the Holy Land”.

Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love,
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
From across that lonesome ocean.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden,
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin',
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin'.

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
It only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.

I got a letter on a lonesome day,
It was from her ship a-sailin',
Saying I don't know when I'll be comin' back again,
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'.

Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way,
I'm sure your mind is roamin'.
I'm sure your heart is not with me,
But with the country to where you're goin'.

So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.



5/29/08