Gypsy Boy

Painted lantern circus, with a wagon swingin' slowly

On a cold October morning, on a day that should be holy

Winding through the forest as the sun is just a breakin'

And I am only seven and a gypsy in the makin'

The winds are blowing through me and the canvas flaps is tearin'

And the folks is talkin' low now, '

Cause they don't want me to hear 'em

And Uncle says there's trouble with the bulls along the border

And I'm a wonderin' why and a wishin' I were older

Many years ago it seems and many summers endin'

The wagon wheels is rustin' and the axles is a bendin'

And I think it's time to move now, but I don't know where we're goin'

And I know it won't be long now before it starts to snowin'

Baby's cryin' softly and the women are a sighin'

And somewhere in a wagon there's a soul that must be dyin'

'Cause the creep is hangin' black from the window of each log

And we'll likely camp at sunset so's the body can be buried

And so the carts will rumble till there ain't no road to travel

I listen to the grindin' of the wooden wheels on gravel

The sad songs and the old songs will warn me and will hold me

And my head at last grows weary and the arms of sleep enfold me

For I am a gypsy boy and my home is where you find me

I'm a gypsy boy and my home is where you find me