The Case Of The Gipsy's Son
The judge he jailed the gipsy's son
For the trivial thing which he had done
He had stolen from a farmer a second hand tweed coat
Which was valued at a ten pound note.
The young man's father Gipsy Jack
Had already given the coat back
The Gipsy lad looked scared and pale
When his lordship said 'three months in jail'.
This was the young man's first offence
Said Gipsy Jack it doesn't make sense
Your lordship please for fair play sake
My son at least deserves one break.
The father for his son did plead
But the judge he gave his plea no heed
He said this is a lawful Land
And the sentence I passed it must stand
But Gipsy Jack had more to say
Said he my son got no fair play
'You are nothing but a stupid prig
Protected by a silly wig'
Gipsy Jack was held for contempt
And twenty days in jail he spent
And he paid the price for finding out
That if you are poor in court house keep shut mouth.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Gipsy Love
The gipsy tents are on the down,
The gipsy girls are here;
And it's O to be off and away from the town
With a gipsy for my dear!
We'd make our bed in the bracken
With the lark for a chambermaid;
The lark would sing us awake in the morning,
Singing above our head.
We'd drink the sunlight all day long
With never a house to bind us;
And we'd only flout in a merry song
The world we left behind us.
We would be free as birds are free
The livelong day, the livelong day;
And we would lie in the sunny bracken
With none to say us nay.
The gipsy tents are on the down,
The gipsy girls are here;
And it's O to be off and away from the town
With a gipsy for my dear!
poem by Arthur Symons
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Gipsy Vans
Unless you come of the gipsy stock
That steals by night and day,
Lock your heart with a double lock
And throw the key away.
Bury it under the blackest stone
Beneath your father's hearth,
And keep your eyes on your lawful own
And your feet to the proper path.
Then you can stand at your door and mock
When the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't right that the Gorgio stock
Should live as the Romany do.
Unless you come of the gipsy blood
That takes and never spares,
Bide content with your given good
And follow your own affairs.
Plough and harrow and roll your land,
And sow what ought to be sowed;
But never let loose your heart from your hand,
Nor flitter it down the road!
Then you can thrive on your boughten food
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't nature the Gorgio blood
Should love as the Romany do.
Unless you carry the gipsy eyes
That see but seldom weep,
Keep your head from the naked skies
Or the stars'll trouble your sleep.
Watch your moon through your window-pane
And take what weather she brews;
But don't run out in the midnight rain
Nor home in the morning dews.
Then you can buddle and shut your eyes
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't fitting the Gorgio ryes
Should walk as the Romany do.
Unless you come of the gipsy race
That counts all time the same,
Be you careful of Time and Place
And Judgment and Good Name:
Lose your life for to live your life
The way that you ought to do;
And when you are finished, your God and your wife
And the Gipsies'll laugh at you!
Then you can rot in your burying place
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't reason the Gorgio race
Should die as the Romany do.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gypsy Vans
Unless you come of the gipsy stock
That steals by night and day,
Lock your heart with a double lock
And throw the key away.
Bury it under the blackest stone
Beneath your father's hearth,
And keep your eyes on your lawful own
And your feet to the proper path.
Then you can stand at your door and mock
When the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't right that the Gorgio stock
Should live as the Romany do.
Unless you come of the gipsy blood
That takes and never spares,
Bide content with your given good
And follow your own affairs.
Plough and harrow and roll your land,
And sow what ought to be sowed;
But never let loose your heart from your hand,
Nor flitter it down the road!
Then you can thrive on your boughten food
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't nature the Gorgio blood
Should love as the Romany do.
Unless you carry the gipsy eyes
That see but seldom weep,
Keep your head from the naked skies
Or the stars'll trouble your sleep.
Watch your moon through your window-pane
And take what weather she brews;
But don't run out in the midnight rain
Nor home in the morning dews.
Then you can buddle and shut your eyes
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't fitting the Gorgio ryes
Should walk as the Romany do.
Unless you come of the gipsy race
That counts all time the same,
Be you careful of Time and Place
And Judgment and Good Name:
Lose your life for to live your life
The way that you ought to do;
And when you are finished, your God and your wife
And the Gipsies'll laugh at you!
Then you can rot in your burying place
As the gipsy vans come through...
For it isn't reason the Gorgio race
Should die as the Romany do.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shes A Gipsy
Satin sheets in her bedroom
Picasso hung in the hall
Only cover for a secret lover
Who shes expecting to call
Oooh-though the lady tries
She cant hide the gipsy inside
Shes a gipsy, and the ladys her disguise
Shes a gipsy, see the fire in her eyes
And shed sell off all her diamond rings,
The rubies and the pearls
If she could buy the freedom of a gipsy girl
She never touches her steinway
Plays the tables instead
Oooh-win or lose she still leaves with only
A dream to take her to bed
Oooh-though the lady tries
She cant hide the gipsy inside
Shes a gipsy, and the ladys her disguise
Shes a gipsy, see the fire in her eyes
And shed sell off all her diamond rings,
The rubies and the pearls
If she could buy the freedom of a gipsy girl
Oooh-though the lady tries
She cant hide the gipsy inside
Shes a gipsy, and the ladys her disguise
Shes a gipsy, see the fire in her eyes
And shed sell off all her diamond rings,
The rubies and the pearls
If she could buy the freedom of a gipsy girl
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gipsy Too
If they missed my face in Farmers’ Arms
When the landlord lit the lamp,
They would grin and say in their country way,
‘Oh! he’s down at the Gipsy camp!’
But they’d read of things in the Daily Mail
That the wild Australians do,
And I cared no day what the world might say,
For I came of the Gipsies too.
‘Oh! the Gipsy crowd are a mongrel lot,
‘And a thieving lot and sly!’
But I’d dined on fowls in the far-off south,
And a mongrel lot was I.
‘Oh! the Gipsy crowd are a roving gang,
‘And a sulky, silent crew!’
But they managed a smile and a word for me,
For I came of the Gipsies too.
And the old queen looked in my palm one day—
And a shrewd old dame was she:
‘My pretty young gent, you may say your say,
‘You may laugh your laugh at me;
‘But I’ll tell you the tale of your dead, dead past!’
And she told me all too true;
And she said that I’d die in a camp at last,
For I came of the Gipsies too.
And the young queen looked in my eyes that night,
In a nook where the hedge grew tall,
And the sky was swept and the stars were bright,
But her eyes had the sheen of all.
The spring was there, and the fields were fair,
And the world to my heart seemed new.
’Twas ‘A Romany lass to a Romany lad!’
But I came of the Gipsies too.
Now a Summer and Winter have gone between
And wide, wild oceans flow;
And they camp again by the sad old Thames,
Where the blackberry hedges grow.
’Twas a roving star on a land afar
That proved to a maid untrue,
But we’ll meet when they gather the Gipsy souls,
For I came of the Gipsies too.
poem by Henry Lawson
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She's Got The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack,
Ooh, It was a bad deal, (Jack)
She gave me the (Jack), hey
She's got the (Jack), she's got the (Jack)
She's got the (Jack), ooh can't you tell
She's got the (Jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack)
(She's got the jack, she's got the Jack)
She's got the jack, she's got the Jack
She's got the jack, you never know!
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, and it hurts!
(She's got the jack)
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Aaaaaah!
Oooooh!
Thank you, thank you, thank you people, thank you, thank you
I'm glad you like the show, yes, thank you very much folks.
Goodnight and God bless
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sea gipsy
The sea gipsy
she's anchored in our sheltered bay, a fishing boat tonight will stay
a forard mooring rope made fast, engine's cut, anchor cast
light is failing, silhouettes, casts shadows of old fishing nets
atop the mast a solitary light, a beacon, throughout the night
with the tides rise and fall, she swings on the anchor's maul
waves lapping against her hull, oblivious to a wandering gull
decks are clear, gear stored, sleep comes to those aboard
on the morrow, at dawns first light, the eastern sun chases the night
movement aboard this working craft, is witnessed forard and abaft
now in the bright light of day, the gipsy prepares to get under way
lines are hauled, the engines started, the gipsy now, has departed
steaming to the fishing grounds, through the reefs and outer sounds
poem by Bob Gibson
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Peddling Round the World
When at first in foreign parts
Was her flag unfurled,
England was a Gipsy lass
Peddling round the world.
Sailing on the Spanish Main—
Everywhere you roam—
Peddling in the Persian Gulf
Things she’d made at home.
Peddling round the world,
Peddling round the world—
England was a Gipsy lass
Peddling round the world.
England never wanted war,
Not on land or sea—
Other nations rising up
Couldn’t let her be.
England only wanted peace,
And the ocean’s breath;
So there came, in course of time,
Queen Elizabeth.
Queen Elizabeth—
Queen Elizabeth—
Came a plain, bad-tempered queen,
Called Elizabeth.
Queen Elizabeth, she called
Drake, and Raleigh too—
Essex, Howard, and the rest
Of the pirate crew;
“See what you can do,” she said.
“England’s feeling sick—
If you don’t, I’ll hang you all!
Better do it quick.”
“Better do it quick,” she said—
“Better do it quick”;
And they knew she’d keep her word,
So they did it quick.
Drake and Raleigh sailed away—
(Only Bess they feared)
Cleared the Spanish Main and singed
The King of Spain his beard—
Singed the King of Spain his beard,
And his hair they curled.
England was a Gipsy’s love
Peddling round the world.
Peddling round the world,
Peddling round the world.
England was a Gipsy’s love
Peddling round the world.
Once again, when Cromwell came,
England wanted room;
So he lowered Holland’s tone,
Smashed the Dutchman’s broom.
Sent a message to Algiers;
Made its meaning plain—
On the way they called once more
On the King of Spain.
On the King of Spain—
On the King of Spain:
Called, to jog his memory,
On the King of Spain.
So the years went round and round,
Over hills and flats—
England was a Gipsy wife—
England had her brats;
Peddling in the China Sea,
Far from English ground;
Doing biz with Mrs. Jap—
Peddling all around.
Peddling all around—
Peddling all around;
Making friends with Mrs. Jap—
Peddling all around.
When the war is past and gone,
With its blood and tears;
And the world may count upon
Peace for fifty years—
When the gory battle-flags
Round their sticks are furled—
Then you’ll see a Gipsy crone
Peddling round the world.
Peddling round the world—
Peddling round the world.
Then you’ll see a Gipsy crone
A-peddling round the world!
Shawl as old as Joseph’s coat,
Hair as white as snow,
Mind as bright as Seventeen—
Eyes still like the sloe—
Peddling in the Southern Seas—
Everywhere you roam—
And she’ll fill her baskets here
With things we’ll make at home.
Things we’ll make at home—
Things we’ll make at home—
Call to fill her baskets here
With things we’ll make at HOME.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Black Gypsy
(Emmylou Harris)
Broken bottles, broken songs
Broken people been in town too long
Where's everyone gone
Ooh, baby this city gonna break your heart
Oh, gipsy please tell me
Where everyone's gone
Never had a second name
Never spoke of why we came
Fellowship and Gloriousness
The loneliness of pain
Sitting in the rain
Why is the soul of me
Where is my heart
Where is the part of me
That I would give to you
If kindness were my style
Where is the soul of me
Where is my heart
In my own time
Better leave it behind
In a thousand bottles of wine
Oh, precious plans of standing strong
Why is life taking so long
I would tell you everything
If I only had the words to explain
Don't know nothing but the rain
Why is the soul of me
Where is my heart
Where is the part of me
That I would give to you
If kindness were my style
Where is the tenderness
Where is the warmth
In my own soul
That I let it grow old
Oh, it's getting so cold
Broken bottles, broken songs
Broken faces been in town too long
Where has everyone gone
Oh, baby this city gonna break your heart
Oh, gipsy please tell me
Where everyone's gone
Oh, gipsy please tell me
Where everyone's gone
Where everyone's gone
Where everyone's gone
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My life long lover
She is as deserving faithful for me to be.
Even more than those that came before.
From around neck there was a chain.
By my side.
She shall remain.
For its removal has not left me alone.
Givin her a ring and a throne.
She knows
she needs
not the key to me.
Will be allowed to walk in and out.
Sometimes the flame will be week or out.
Her warming presents ever in about.
Will she have a gipsy twin?
Perhaps which one will I win?
I love to feel her in and out.
Do I feel dirty all about.
.
The deeper she goes in.
I Forget about the gipsy twin
I miss her greatly when she not there.
Not Laying on my bed all bear.
Part of what must I endure.
Is the feeling of ensure.
What feeling brought us here to learn
Love and lust will affurm.
But my battle may I win.
Against the small neglectful twin.
poem by Howard Johnson
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The Big Jack
I know you and you know me
We met many years ago
In the halls ofe some ivy covered university
Where we both used to go
Now we stand outside the denmark hotel
With japanese men in ther business suits
Its midnight youre talking to some frenchman
About who does what to you know who
You want the big jack
You want the sky to crack
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You want the big jack
Hell we all want that
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You say you want to go somewhere
Where your ideals were much more than luxuries
And just like some great old painting
You set there so smug
Whith your hands between your knees
You want the big jack
You want the sky to crack
You want something thats goin? to give you
The big jack
You want the big jack
Hell we all want that
You want something thats goin? to give you a
Heart attack
So go back down to that missisippi town
Where you come from
Have a big time tonight
I can still see you in your fathers coat
On the delta shore
That he once owned
I want to be your fathers coat
I want you girl to matty me
I want the big jack
I want the sky to crack
I want something thats goin? to give me
The big jack
I want the big jack
Hell we all want that
I want something thats goin? to give me a
Heart attack
I want the big jack
Yeah we all want that
We want something thats going to give us the big jack
I want the big jack
I want the sky to crack
I want something thats going to give me the big jack
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dirty Boy (and what befell him) II
'Spitting is dirty and crass', said Mim,
and isn't very nice
and by the statutes of this state
it constitutes a vise.
'So grow up, Jack', said little Mim
'So Jack', said John, 'get big'
But all that Jack would mutter back
was 'better pig than prig'.
'So here's to you, mate', shot back Jack
and here's to you-take that! '
and to the horror of them both
forthwith hauled off and spat!
Such the scope and depth and pitch
and tempo of infraction
that they hired a lawyer, (greedy witch)
and filed a class action.
The justice heard the case with awe
the jury with dismay-
in chorus near unanimous
they put the boy away.
Jack did no time, he paid a fine
(his too a canny lawyer-
but waiting, found, when he got home
a hiding from his father.
'Fair is fair', said little Mim,
'And fine is fine', said John
'and if you spit we should be pleased
to do the same again.'
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Rest In Peace
(sambora, bryan)
Voodoo woman
Ill see you in my dreams
Gipsy woman
Down on lonely street
Gipsy was a friend of mine
In a sacred dream
Voodoo woman magic child
In time you will believe
Every time we say goodbye
Our love will rest in peace
After we make love tonight
Our love shall rest in peace
So say a prayer and close your eyes
Come lay your body down to sleep
After we make love tonight
Our love shall rest in peace
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gipsy Trail
The white moth to the closing bine,
The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood
Ever the wide world over.
Ever the wide world over, lass,
Ever the trail held true,
Over the world and under the world,
And back at the last to you.
Out of the dark of the gorgio camp,
Out of the grime and the gray
(Morning waits at the end of the world),
Gipsy, come away!
The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp
The red crane to her reed,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
By the tie of a roving breed.
The pied snake to the rifted rock,
The buck to the stony plain,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
And both to the road again.
Both to the road again, again!
Out on a clean sea-track -
Follow the cross of the gipsy trail
Over the world and back!
Follow the Romany patteran
North where the blue bergs sail,
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray,
And the masts are shod with mail.
Follow the Romany patteran
Sheer to the Austral Light,
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind,
Sweeping the sea-floors white.
Follow the Romany patteran
West to the sinking sun,
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift.
And the east and west are one.
Follow the Romany patteran
East where the silence broods
By a purple wave on an opal beach
In the hush of the Mahim woods.
'The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,
The deer to the wholesome wold,
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,
As it was in the days of old.'
The heart of a man to the heart of a maid -
Light of my tents, be fleet.
Morning waits at the end of the world,
And the world is all at our feet!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Gypsy-Trail
The white moth to the closing bine,
The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood
Ever the wide world over.
Ever the wide world over, lass,
Ever the trail held true,
Over the world and under the world,
And back at the last to you.
Out of the dark of the gorgio camp,
Out of the grime and the gray
(Morning waits at the end of the world),
Gipsy, come away!
The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp
The red crane to her reed,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
By the tie of a roving breed.
The pied snake to the rifted rock,
The buck to the stony plain,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
And both to the road again.
Both to the road again, again!
Out on a clean sea-track --
Follow the cross of the gipsy trail
Over the world and back!
Follow the Romany patteran
North where the blue bergs sail,
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray,
And the masts are shod with mail.
Follow the Romany patteran
Sheer to the Austral Light,
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind,
Sweeping the sea-floors white.
Follow the Romany patteran
West to the sinking sun,
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift.
And the east and west are one.
Follow the Romany patteran
East where the silence broods
By a purple wave on an opal beach
In the hush of the Mahim woods.
"The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,
The deer to the wholesome wold,
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,
As it was in the days of old."
The heart of a man to the heart of a maid --
Light of my tents, be fleet.
Morning waits at the end of the world,
And the world is all at our feet!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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To Jim
I gaze upon my son once more,
With eyes and heart that tire,
As solemnly he stands before
The screen drawn round the fire;
With hands behind clasped hand in hand,
Now loosely and now fast—
Just as his fathers used to stand
For generations past.
A fair and slight and childish form,
And big brown thoughtful eyes—
God help him! for a life of storm
And stress before him lies:
A wanderer and a gipsy wild,
I’ve learnt the world and know,
For I was such another child—
Ah, many years ago!
But in those dreamy eyes of him
There is no hint of doubt—
I wish that you could tell me, Jim,
The things you dream about.
Dream on, my son, that all is true
And things not what they seem—
’Twill be a bitter day for you
When wakened from your dream.
You are a child of field and flood,
But with the gipsy strains
A strong Norwegian sailor’s blood
Is running through your veins.
Be true, and slander never stings,
Be straight, and all may frown—
You’ll have the strength to grapple things
That dragged your father down.
These lines I write with bitter tears
And failing heart and hand,
But you will read in after years,
And you will understand:
You’ll hear the slander of the crowd,
They’ll whisper tales of shame,
But days will come when you’ll be proud
To bear your father’s name.
But oh! beware of bitterness
When you are wronged, my lad—
I wish I had the faith in men
And women that I had!
’Tis better far (for I have felt
The sadness in my song)
To trust all men and still be wronged
Than to trust none and wrong.
Be generous and still do good
And banish while you live
The spectre of ingratitude
That haunts the ones who give.
But if the crisis comes at length
That your future might be marred,
Strike hard, my son, with all your strength!
For your own self’s sake, strike hard!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Jack U Off
If ure looking for somewhere to go
Thought Id take u to a movie show
Sittin in the back and Ill jack u off
I cant give u everything u want
But I can take u to a restaurant
If ure not hungry
Ill jack u off
If your man aint no good
Come on over to my neighborhood
We can jump in the sack and Ill jack u off
If ure tired of the masturbater
Little girl, we can go on a date
And if u like, Ill jack u off
Ill jack u off, jack u off
Ill jack u off, jack u off
Ill jack u off
I only do it for a worthy cause
Viriginity or menopause
Ull have an instant heart attack if I jack u off
If u really really want to be a star
We gotta do it in your mommas car
Naked in a cadillac, Ill jack u off
If we cant find no place to go
Girl, Ill take u to a movie show, we can sit in the back
And Ill jack u off
Ill jack u off, jack u off
Ill jack u off, jack u off
Ill jack u off, yeah
Yeah, yeah, Ill jack u off
Alright say, well put some funk on here
Ill jack u off
If u aint chicken baby, come here
If ure good Ill even let u steer
As a matter of fact, u can jack me off
Yeah, thats right
Ill jack u off, yeah
Ill jack u off
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Jack
SO, I’ve battled it through on my own, Jack,
I have done with all dreaming and doubt.
Though “stoney” to-night and alone, Jack,
I am watching the Old Year out.
I have finished with brooding and fears,
Jack, And the spirit is rising in me,
For the sake of the old New Years, Jack,
And the bright New Years to be.
I have fallen in worldly disgrace, Jack,
And I know very well that you heard;
They have blackened my name in this place, Jack,
And I answered them never a word.
But why should I bluster or grieve,
Jack? So narrow and paltry they be—
I knew you would never believe, Jack,
The lies that were said against me.
That is done which shall never be undone,
And I blame not, I blame not my land,
But I’m hearing the Calling of London,
And I long for the roar of the Strand.
It was always the same with our race,
Jack; You know how a vagabond feels—
We can fight a straight man face to face, Jack.
But we can’t keep the curs from our heels.
You know I loved women and drink, Jack,
And that’s how the trouble began;
But you know that I never would shrink,
Jack, From a deed that was worthy a man!
I never was paltry or mean, Jack.
And cruel I never could be,
I will give you a hand which is clean,
Jack, When we meet again over the sea.
I will bring a few wrinkles of care,
Jack; I have altered a lot, I am told;
The steel-filings show in my hair, Jack;
But my heart is as young as of old.
I have faith still in women, and men, Jack,
Though selfish and blind they may be.
I still have my soul and my pen, Jack,
And my country seems dearer to me.
I will sail when your summer sets in, Jack,
And good-bye to my own native land;
Oh, I long for a glimpse of your grin, Jack,
And I long for the grip of your hand.
We both suffered sorrow and pain, Jack,
And sinned in the days that are done;
But we’ll fight the old battle again, Jack,
Where the battle is worth being won.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gentleman
'He has robbed two clubs. The judge at Salisbury
Can't give him more than he undoubtedly
Deserves. The scoundrel! Look at his photograph!
A lady-killer! Hanging's too good by half
For such as he.' So said the stranger, one
With crimes yet undiscovered or undone.
But at the inn the Gipsy dame began:
'Now he was what I call a gentleman.
He went along with Carrie, and when she
Had a baby he paid up so readily
His half a crown. Just like him. A crown'd have been
More like him. For I never knew him mean.
Oh! but he was such a nice gentleman. Oh!
Last time we met he said if me and Joe
Was anywhere near we must be sure and call.
He put his arms around our Amos all
As if he were his own son. I pray God
Save him from justice! Nicer man never trod.'
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Three Gipsies
Three gipsy men I saw one day
Stretched out on the grass together,
As wearily o'er the sandy way
My wagon brushed the heather.
The first of the three was fiddling there
In the glow of evening pallid,
Playing a wild and passionate air,
The tune of some gipsy ballad.
From the second's pipe the smoke-wreaths curled,
He watched them melt at his leisure.
So full of content, it seemed the world
Had naught to add to his pleasure.
And what of the third?--He was fast asleep,
His harp to a bough confided;
The breezes across the strings did sweep,
A dream o'er his heart-strings glided.
The garb of all was worn and frayed,
With tatters grotesquely mended;
But flouting the world, and undismayed,
The three with fate contended.
They showed me how, by three-fold scoff,
When cares of life perplex us,
To smoke, or sleep, or fiddle them off,
And scorn the ills that vex us.
I passed them, but my gaze for long
Dwelt on the trio surly--
Their dark bronze features sharp and strong,
Their loose hair black and curly.
poem by Nikolaus Franz Niembsch Edler von Strehlenau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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