Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Leave all your woes dire, come to the campfire,
Come to the sound of the tambourine;
Come in a red skirt, come in a gold shirt,
Come to the dance on the Gypsy Green.

Take down the barn doors, make them a dance floor,
Partner your Rom, and sweep up your Queen;
Dance by the camp fire, dance ’til your feet tire,
Dance `neath the moon on the Gypsy Green.

Tell us the old tales, tell us some new tales,
Tell us everything that you’ve done or seen;
Take us down old ways, tell of your young days,
Spin us a yarn on the Gypsy Green.

Now watch the fire die, now hear the owl cry,
Soon the first rays of morning steal over the scene;
Sleep in your caravans, dream of fair atchin tan,
All tuckered out on the Gypsy Green.

Note: atchin tan=camp place


At 7:03 PM, Blogger Heather Blakey said...

Too good an offer to refuse Gail.

At 12:54 PM, Blogger Lorijayne said...

I'd love to hear this sung.


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