G.T. Moore | Gypsie Road

 

Gypsie Road

I was but thirteen, when the travellers were seen
Down Gypsy Lane from Romany
And I ran from Castle Street and I hid behind the trees
Carefull to see they don't see me

And I dreamed a dream
Dream dream, that I could
Go where the gypsies go, know what the gypsies know
Follow the gypsy roads, maybe to the sea

They say they're dirty dirty people
And they live too close together
And camp down by the gravel-pits every summer
But I watched them from the treetops, as they moved across the river
In their old rusty caravans forever

And I dream a  dream
Dream dream, that I could
Go wher the gypsies go, know what the gypsies know
Follow the gypsy roads, maybe to the sea

Oh but that was so long ago
And where they went to, I don't know
And we don't live by the gravel-pits anymore
And  although we've moved home, the gypsies still  come and go
But it's not to me like a mystery anymore

I still dream a dream
Dream dream, that I could
Go where the gypsies go, know what the gypsies know
Follow the gypsy roads, maybe to the sea
Go where the gypsies go, know what the gypsies know
Follow the gypsy roads, maybe to the sea