I KNOW a gypsy maiden and she travels in a van: I think she loves me better than the shiftless gypsy man. She reads cards with the best of them, she pierces with her eyes. Her voice is low and very sweet and quick with love-replies. She has a touch of starlight and she knows the sun and moon. Her breasts are full and ample as red roses late in June. And I've told her that I love her ... And I guess she understands (Her red lips drooped a-quiver, there was trembling in her hands, This little Gypsy maiden that travels in a van) That I'll make a better husband than a loafing Gypsy Man. |