A young gypsy fell out in a slumberHeading north with a driver he
knewSomeone he'd lived with and trustedA young woman who
trusted him tooThat very same day the young gypsyHad come from a
farm in the westWhere the children had played throughout the heat
of the dayAffording the gypsy no restAnd the gypsy's bones
were wearyAnd the front seat looked secureAnd the gypsy slept on
until the sun it was goneAnd the stars pierced the eyes of the
girl at his sideThe next morning's day would be
EasterHe'd dress in his only fine shirtAnd shuffle through
clusters of strangersWith his gaze and his shoes in the dirtAnd
the woman who loved him would watch himProtect him from curious
staresFor the womenfolk tend to be friendlyAnd the gypsy's
as young as he's fairAnd the evening brought on laughterAnd
jars of bright red wineAnd the gypsy drank some and the gypsy had
funAnd his dancing got wild and the grandmothers smiledSleeping
came easily afterIn the arms of the woman that foldUp the
secrets and dreams of the gypsyThat will never be sought or be
soldIn fact, they will never be toldFor the gypsy is two years
old