Recollections of Romany Life

GYPSY BLOOD

My father’s a traveller, an old gypsy man,
He lives in a trailer he calls his old tan,
He sit’s around a yog, til late in the night,
Stories he’ll rockker til it’s almost daylight
 
My mother’s a traveller with old gypsy blood,
Her heart filled with gypsy motherly love,
She knows how to cook, to scrub and to clean,
She will bring a good shine to any old thing

They live in a trailer that sparkles and shines,
With china around, there’s all different kinds,
Crown Derby and Ainslie and lots of cut glass,
Collected by my mum in the years that have past
 
They live on a site that’s just out of sight,
There are woods to the left and fields to the right,
My father has a dog, it’s an old lurcher juk,
They go get a rabbit for my mother to cook
 
On Sunday they have rabbit pudding or stew,
Washed down with tea and one cup won’t do,
Mum makes the best tea, we all know that it’s true
That’s why for my father no one else’s will do
 
My father has a lorry, it’s an old transit truck,
He takes it to work with his ladders on the back,
He looks for a gronta to cut down her trees,
If he gets her money, then he’s eager to please
 
My father and mother are two of the best,
Their love for us chavvies we don’t have to test,
That’s why their chavvies all live around,
Because no better place could we ever have found

THE ROAD

I’m settled on a site the way I never thought I’d be,
But always in my heart, the road is calling me.
The memories of my childhood running wild and free,
Are always in my mind, coursing, longing deep in me
 
In winter I am happy to be pulled up on my plot,
For I know in winter, to be settled means a lot,
But when I see the sunshine, my feet begin to itch,
And I feel imprisoned on this site I long to ditch
 
The beauty of the road is not there for all to see,
Some in houses and on sites are happy there to be,
They’ve forgot about the good old days on the open road,
All they remember is the hunger and the dirty clothes.
 
But I remember raindrops, falling on my trailer roof,
And the cushty trotting sound of the horses hoofs,
In every different town, a cousin we would meet,
Sitting round a yog at night, with them you couldn’t beat
 
In morning in the summer as the day began,
I’d hear my father playing his accordion,
Now on summer mornings all that I can hear,
Is my chavvies with the telly blurring loudly in my ear
 
Fruit picking in the summer we always did in Kent,
In the cherry orchard was the best time that I’ve spent,
If I could go back in time, I know right where I’d be,
Sitting on a cherry box as my father played for me!
 

MY GYPSY MAN

My gypsy man I love you, and you know I always have,
Since we first run away together, and our love was all we had,
You’ve always been there for me and always been my friend,
And on you my darling husband, I knew I always could depend
 
You’ve worked so hard my darling, throughout our married years,
Sometimes I’ve seen you so worn out, that it’s brought my eyes to tears,
You’ve walked for miles and miles, tapping on the doors,
But never giving up and coming home, until a job was yours
 
It’s hard to believe all you know; you have so many skills,
And they’re all self-taught, you’ve learned throughout the years,
You can fix a roof, climb and cut down a tree, and it still bewilders me,
You’re as good under the bonnet of a truck, as any mechanic could be
 
You’ve turned your hands to every trade, and I’m proud to say,
Never throughout my married life, have I known a hungry day,
Sometimes I have had to make do with things; I know that fact is true,
But now you’re even making up for that, the way that only you could do
 
We’ve sheared the joy of our children, and we’ve sheared the pain,
And when I’ve worried about them, I know you’ve felt the same,
You’ve sat up with me all night long when they were unwell,
Then went to work next morning, more tired the you could tell
 
You’re a man with pride and honour, your word has been your bond,
And I know your love and respect for me has always been so strong,
You’ve raised our sons with self respect, the way that men should be,
And when I see them standing next to you, it brings such pride to me.
 
Though the years we have had our rows, we’ve had our ups and downs,
But you’ve never put your hands on me, or treated me like a clown,
When I’ve worried, you’ve worried with me, if I hurt you felt my pain,
And if I had to pick my man again, my choice of you would be the same
 
Gypsy RoseLouise