The Gipsy and the Hobo
No need to climb into my caravan
A warm fire blazes next my bed.
Lay down and tarry best you can
I’ll read your fortune, you rest your head.
Time to change and to rearrange,
To wander over field and fen.
Take my hand, I’ll understand,
If you want to kiss me like other men.
Take me in your arms,
Don’t waste my eager charms,
Embrace me in the dust and the night.
We’ll flow with the tide, I’ll be your bride,
‘Til the sun comes up burning bright.
We’re the gipsy and the hobo,
We’ve made our indelible mark.
But there’s nothing to stop us,
Exploring the dark.
No need to step up into my caravan,
My bedroll is on the ground, next the fire.
No call to ask me kindly, you know you can.
My lips don’t part to reproach you for your desire.
No call to sing your song inside my caravan,
Don’t trouble me with all your manly lies.
All the need you bring along I understand,
Every poem ever written I read in your eyes.
March 2010 Newhaven
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