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The painted lantern circus
With the wagons swingin' slowly
On a cold October morning
On a day that should be holy
Windin' through the forest
As the sun is just a-breakin'
And I am only seven
And a gypsy in the makin'

The wind's a-blowin' through me
And the canvas flaps is tearin'
And the folks is talkin' low now
'Cause they don't want me to hear 'em
And Uncle says there's trouble
With the bulls along the border
And I'm a-wonderin' why
And a-wishing I were older

Many years ago it seems
And many summers endin'
The wagon wheels is rustin'
And the axles is a-bendin'
And I think it's time to move now
But I don't know where we're goin'
And I know it won't be long now
Before it starts to snowin'

Babies cryin' softly
And the women are a-sighin'
And somewhere in a wagon
There's a soul that must be dyin'
'Cause the crepe is hangin' black
From the window of each lorry
And we'll likely camp at sunset
So's the body can be buried

And so the carts will rumble
'Til there ain't no road to travel
I'll listen to the grindin'
Of the wooden wheels on grave!
The sad songs and the old songs
Will warm me and will hold me
And my head at last grows tveary
And the arms of sleep enfold me
For I'm a gypsy boy
And my home is where you find me

I'm a gypsy boy
And my home is where you find me.

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