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Gypsy Davey.

As I walked out one mid-summer morning
As I walked out right early
I heard a voice sing clear on the air
And it was the voice of a lady.

She sang of silks and of fine feather beds
She sang of jewels aplenty
And she sang of all she had left
To ride with Gypsy Davey.

She sang of sorrow - she sang of joy
She cried for her mother
And she sang of young Gypsy Dave
That she could love no other.

{Instru.}

Her mother she cried - her father he railed
And he rode his finest steed ‘til he broke her
And he railed and he ran ‘til his darkest day was done
And he cursed young Gypsy Davey.

{Instru.}

As I walked out one mid-summer morning
As I walked out right early
I heard a voice sing clear on the air
The voice of my own sweet lady . . . .

 

© 2010 Ivor and Kevan Bundell.

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