Sento Il Fischio Del Vapore

I hear the whistle of the steam, it's my love that's leaving,
he's off to Albania, who knows when he'll be back.
He'll return this spring with a bloodied sword,
and if he finds me already married, oh what pain, oh what sorrow.
Oh what pain, oh what sorrow, love's a nasty beast now,
I'd rather go without food than not have love in my life.
They locked me up in a convent and cut off my hair,
and it was blonde, curly, and beautiful, they took away my beauty.
I hear the whistle of the steam, it's my love that's leaving...
I hear the whistle of the steam, it's my love that's leaving...