My gypsy poetry part six

Your caravan

Can i come live in your caravan

we'll ride on the highway and live off the land

with six sons and daughters and a workshop at hand

well sleep in the vardo and it will be grand

Can i come live in your caravan

Il be very good and hold of your hand

we'll sing in the morning and il be four wife

we'll live upon strawberry's and love in the night

Can i come live in your caravan

with stories that jingle and wheels do go round

with tracks on the highway and love in the dale

Ill love ya forever and life will be swell

We'll grow old together and il lay in your bed

with pillows of feather and a rose on my head

I'll love you forever and kiss you real sweet

from the top of your head to the balls of your feet

Can i come live in your caravan

with shire horse so proud and brasses so grand

with bed that we'll share

and love that will spring

ll love you there nightly

you'll hear the springs sing

Can i come live in your caravan

with road that is long and wheels that go round

we'll dance in the moonlight and you'll hold me real tight

we'll kiss in the heather and you'll take me each night

Can i come live in your caravan

il be good as gold and wear your clan tan

you can kiss me at daybreak and love me each night

we'll roll in the heathers and il keep you sprite..

Gypsy love

Once trwer a zunner knew an ole gypsy song

he sang me the words n they were true n so strong

about a fair maiden who sang for her alms

she was loved by a gentleman n fell for his charms

oh the sun it did best there on heather n down

her heart it did melt and the loving was strong

the skirts tat she wore showed a pleasure for free

under the brambles beside the bourne sea

oh their love it was sweet and his words they did spin

he offered her comfort and she gave love to him

the wind it did blow and her flesh it was fair

they laid in the grasses cum some n bare

the world it was savage and the men they were free

with soldiers of fortune out on a spree

their heartbeats were one and their flesh was so free

under the brambles on the edge of bourne sea

the birds they did chirp and the words he did spin

as she succumbed to pleasure and his love fondling

where trees they were rich in leaves to the shroud

under the hedge grows where love was so proud

her dress it was scanty and her flesh it was free

then he gave her his love proud

the rest is history..

Romany genes

She had Romany genes

she was born in the briar's

one of sixteen children

everyone would admire

Her mother was faithful and her father was true

they lived on the hillside in ole Waterloo

she traveled the fairgrounds and ran with the pack

she was chased by the boys but there was no going back

Her life it was hard but her love it was true

she courted her sweetheart in ole Waterloo

her father was nelson and her molter was jane

they roamed all the commons and strolled through the lanes

They ran with the pack like gypsy folks do

and they lived by their wits in ole Waterloo

her boyfriend was handsome and he courted her true

gave of his love and his humanity too

They ran in the lanes and they rolled in the green

where the rabbits did scamper and the fox never seen

they married in church one Sunday at noon

the vicar was laughing and they danced to their tune

The gypsy folk sang the harmonica played

in the village of memories where children were made

in the garden of thankfullness

down by the glade

Ole romany genes are true and so deep

they cover a multitude of memories where mothers do weep

the spring it doth yield and the flowerrs bud neat

whilst the ole blackbird sings his love song so sweet.

Gypsy's on canford heath.

The caravans glory is written in sand

like the dreams from the heath lands

the lonely steel bands

the chimes of the clock and the walk to the door

the preachers and lovers unite in the hall

The ponies that run there free on the moors

the old toothless ladies with pure words so pure

the poetry reads there like the new dawning sun

with cows in the meadows and rabbits a run

The work in the factory and the times not your own

with hours spent in fashion and no wheres to roam

there a church bell that chimes there and a scene for to see

with lonely sidewalks and a stroll to the sea

The organist plays his music so sweet

with chords of pure love and honey to eat

there's food on the table and wagons that roll

there's an old gypsy saying left out in the cold

So beat the drum lowly and ply the flute fine

with cherished emotions and words on the vine

there's a gypsy boy playing out on the heath

but its only a childhood left a cutting his tee