Our fathers out of India come
And stopped where they found water
And the gadgo boys with their greedy eyes
Coveted our daughters, coveted our daughters
And the moon shone into the seas across the palms with silver
There was music that night in the dark campsite
And the music made you shiver, to be the gypsy
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Across the deserts our fathers come
With dancing boy and bear and drum
And the gadgo boys with their greedy eyes
Coveted our freedom, coveted our freedom
And we fit in your landscape as the sixth to the five senses
But the pastures close as the cowboy knows
And the world's cut up by fences, to catch the gypsy
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
And the colours fade on the caravans
And old roads bend in change
And the vigilantes move us on
But still we do remain, and while we do remain
Your ways only keep us on the paths we have chosen
When it's cold at night, and the fire won't light
And the children's hands are frozen, and it's hard to be the gypsy
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Oh, the fire that burns, the cage, the key, the dancer of delight
The flame that burns behind the eyes
Yet flickers in your sight, flickers in your sight
And you may die of cold because the ways that you have chosen
Has warmed your hands, but not your heart and left your poor soul frozen
Let the gypsy dance
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Now if the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
If the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
Now if the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
If the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
Now if the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
If the gypsy cannot dance, in your heart you may discover
That the flame needs air to burn, and soon it'll be all over
...
Gypsy was written by Ralph McTell.
Gypsy was produced by Tony Visconti.