Firenze

Florence,
City of daring minds,
She lives in a cradle of hills
That are always, always in bloom.

Some have their French,
Some have their Australian,
And then there are those with English
Or American.

I have my blonde,
She may not be fancy, she's maybe a bit rough,
But I adore her without reservations, bah,
And because she's like me, she's from Florence.

Florence,
City of hills,
In a spot that's flat
There's a forest called, called Cascine.

Some go by car,
Some go by horse,
And whether the sky is covered
Or under a yellow sunset.

I go, as you see,
I go to Cascine and I always walk there,
I wait for her and she comes full of grace
Like the ladies of Florence.

Florence,
City of Vial dei Colli,
In the middle of the grand square
Many cunning and foolish pass by.

Some go for the view
And some go to make love,
But there are those who pass the thorns
And their hearts shatter.

And passes among many voices
And they say: Look and go to Monte alle Croci.
Hats in hand, four bows
Under a red sunset of Florence.

Florence,
City where I was born,
I don't know for what reason,
If I don't see you a bit, I'm desperate.

I wrote this song
And many have sung it,
But with my big voice
And it wasn't recorded.

Sure, I'm not a tenor
But for Florence I express passion
And the record I sang with love
Is from the house