The Gypsy, the Punk, and the Fool (A Tale)

(My mother said
I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood
If I did
She; d surely say
Naughty lad to disobey)

Lay the sleepy children down
Battered and on baby's brow
Embers turn the night to smoke
Bottles, shelves of rebel ray and ghost
Of all jokes
Horses tethered tight to them hang
In the beds of straw strong arms fade
What are the words of the gypsy lament
Carnival, not hunted by the land
Sing of no surrender

Saw a fiddle cracked in a seller's shack
That look on his face said don't come back
As the crusty and the gypsy had their spat
Which one owns less of the land
One has asked the other if there; s space
The other laughs, "You'd hardly last a day.
For all your bean fields and 'your pay-no-rents'
Can you really sing the rogue's lament?
You'll hang before you surrender, you'll hang before you surrender, you'll hang before you surrender"
"I will not surrender!"

Hey!

"The boy could have grown to never strain a hand
Yet now he talks of working his own land
And father's bribery is all for naught
For the moral of these stories can't be bought

How a barber when idly's his shed
To tend the wheat that soon should be your bread
If you choose rebellion over sweet consent, can you really sing the rogue's lament?
Not yet!"

I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
When you roll your own bed, you; ll always be on some lead
You cannot sing the rogue's lament again

I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
When you make your own bread, the baker's always a friend,
You cannot sing the rogue's lament again

I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
I'll sing the rogue's lament never again
When you roll your own bed, you'll always be on some lead
You cannot sing the rogue's lament again
You'll sing the rogue's lament never again!