Tropical night, Malaria moon Dying stars of the silver screen She danced that famous Gypsy dance With a hole in her tambourine
I was young enough and dumb enough I swallowed down my Mickey Finn She'd hijacked a few hearts all right I went into a tailspin
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up again
I put my arm around her waist Says she, young man, you're getting warm The room was going somewhere without me And she laughed as she read my palm
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up again
Stillborn love, passionate dreams, pitiful greed And the silver tongues of the tinker girls Who throw their book of life at you But don't know how to read
She was third generation Transylvanian I was the seventh son of a seventh son I begged the band don't play that tune Please don't beguine the begun
When I awoke, she'd cut and run She stole my blueprints and my change Just a horseshoe and a note on the bed And all it said was--strange
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me No more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up againTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
