My Angeline

Angelina Baker lived just down the street
And my heart would set to achin’ every time we chanced to meet
Although she’s now another’s, I still recall the time
When my little Angie swore that she’d always be mine

Temper of a fury, Irish born and bred
Skin of cream and roses and her hair was curly red
She could sing just like a songbird in a sweet, magnolia June
And she could play upon a young man’s heart like sawin’ on a fiddle tune

Well, the ocean is a mistress once she gets in the veins
And to live a life without her, Lord, will drive a man insane
My Angeline grew jealous, said, “It’s either ‘her’ or me”
And she cursed my name in a last farewell as I set out to sea

For ten long years I tarried in every port of call
Tryin’ to forget that gal of mine wouldn’t do no good at all
So I went to beg her pardon and make another start
Just to find my Angeline had died of a broken heart

I’m not much good for nothin’, my youth long passed away
But if you hand me down my banjo, son, I do believe I’ll play
Angelina Baker, Angeline, I know
I should have married Angeline forty some odd years ago

Angelina Baker, Angeline, I know
I should have married Angeline forty some odd years ago

Angelina Baker, Angeline, I know
I should have married Angeline forty some odd years ago