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roving gypsy



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they said he was a gypsy because he had that roving eye
he wandered like a free bird soaring in the sky
he talked to kings and peasants always just the same
they said that he was beautiful but they didn't get his name

he wandered over lancashire and skipped down in the delphs
his friends were very many though he didn't have no wealth
he strolled along the highways where the traffic did not roar
he was a vagabond and troubadour like they'd never known before

his heart was in the right place and his soul was rich in verse
he could recite good poetry though his lines were rough and course
he sauntered through the valleys amongst the briar's and thorns
he was a happy traveler with his vardo and his horse

he told your stories and his words were set in stone
with meaning and sweet metaphors that danced and skipped and roamed
his clothes tr hey were cosmopolitan and his accent didy coy
he was a fairground traveler with a twinkle in his eye

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