at heavenly bottom on the canford heath plains
i stumbled on gypsies again and again
some wore their shawls and some went to woolys in town
for to sale pegs and flowers for your pretty gowns
so cross my palm with silver dear and talk of diddy coy
for i was just a mush then and she gave me of the eye
i could neither dance a reel or of the blarney sing
but i knew of the queen of the kinson kings
so make your signs on doorsteps and talk in that refrain
come with i and wander down old kinsons heather lanes
though i could ferrit with the rabbits and hide out in the bush
but often id get blackened eye by some gypsy fighting mush
how we loved the fairgrounds with their humming carousels
with horses for a riding and baskets of heathers for to sale
the darts they were a flying and the boxers were a sight
there twer walls of death to ride and the locals for to fight
the gypsy girls were course and loud
though their looks were sultry dark
they handled their aggressions and they loved in in the park
they were quick in love and awesome in the arts