My father is the king of the gypsies, it is true, My mother, she learned me some camping for to do. They put the pack all on my back, they all did wish me well,
So I set off to London town, some fortunes for to tell. Now one night I came to some fair London street, A handsome young squire I chanced for to meet, He viewed my brown cheeks and he liked them so well, He says, "My little gypsy girl, can you my fortune tell?" "Why yes, kind sir, give me hold of your hand. Why, you have got houses, you've riches and you've land. Now all those pretty ladies, you must put them to one side, For I'm the little gypsy girl that is to be your bride." Now once I was a gypsy girl but now a squire's bride, I've servants for to wait on me and in the carriage ride. The bells they rang so merrily, the sweet music did play, And a jolly time we had upon the gypsy's wedding day.
Writer(s): CARTHY ELIZA AMY FORBES