The Gypsy Poet

Oh the blackbirds songs on the gorse at spring

Whilst the sun it shines on the party

When the roads we took

Through the gorse and brooks were wild and open country

Oh the songs we sang where the rabbits run

Where the foxes hid in the bracken

Where the lord’s last prayer will be granted there

Where the young ones will be a smiling

Where their nimble feet ran to greet

The travellers with their stories

Whether young or old and the pages unfold

Of the tales that told of their travels

On the country road where the blacksmith sold

On the blackbird sings in the morning

Whether rich or poor boy or girl

Oh I’ll be with you there in the morning

Oh the ladies dressed in their sunday best

The church bells rang and the people sang

Then we moved on in the morning

Said The Gypsy Poet

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