I had a little heart when I was born.
Push came to shove and it was torn.
I was lonely and desperate and so forlorn,
But, you know, whatever, I don’t really like to mourn.
I pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
I pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
I had half a heart I gave to one or two,
But after good, good lovin’ I din’t know what to do.
Though I loved my lovers, I was blue.
We broke up and my half-heart it broke in two.
I pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
Never been so lonely in my life.
I searched for a lover the whole world over,
In red, red wine and crimson clover,
The Halls of Montezuma to the White Cliffs of Dover
I searched for a lover the whole world over.
I went to the river to find a wife,
Pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
Never been so lonely in my life,
So lonely in all my life...
She had stars on her brow, a belly white as flowers,
Eyes of diamond, rounded as almonds
Cheeks fine as feathers, lips pressed together,
Hair black and shining, pink-faced from crying.
Lover, oh my Lover in the deep blue sea,
Lover, oh my Lover, please swim with me,
With me, with me...
I pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
I pulled out my heart with a red, red knife.
When I picture a woman, I am not alone.
I picture a woman and I am known.
I picture a woman and what do I see?
I picture a woman; that’s me, that’s me.
That‘s me.
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