The white moth to the closing bine, |
The bee to the opened clover, |
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood |
Ever the wide world over. |
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Ever the wide world over, lass, |
Ever the trail held true, |
Over the world and under the world, |
And back at the last to you. |
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Out of the dark of the gorgio camp, |
Out of the grime and the gray |
(Morning waits at the end of the world), |
Gipsy, come away! |
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The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp, |
The red crane to her reed, |
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad |
By the tie of a roving breed. |
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The pied snake to the rifted rock, |
The buck to the stony plain, |
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad, |
And both to the road again. |
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Both to the road again, again! |
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Follow the cross of the gipsy trail |
Over the world and back! |
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Follow the Romany patteran |
North where the blue bergs sail, |
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray, |
And the masts are shod with mail. |
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Follow the Romany patteran |
Sheer to the Austral Light, |
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind, |
Sweeping the sea-floors white. |
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Follow the Romany patteran |
West to the sinking sun, |
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift. |
And the east and west are one. |
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Follow the Romany patteran |
East where the silence broods |
By a purple wave on an opal beach |
In the hush of the Mahim woods. |
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«The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky, |
The deer to the wholesome wold, |
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid, |
» |
|
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Light of my tents, be fleet. |
Morning waits at the end of the world, |
And the world is all at our feet! |