  Is there no room in your gypsy heart Where a woman's love might lie Warm and sheltered, your prize and song, As you wander beneath the sky? No, for you say, "I'll carry no weight, I must be free, be free; I'll carry no love in my gypsy heart To make a drag for me." Little you know, then, love is the cloak That shelters you from the storm; Love makes the shoes for your gypsy feet, Love is your coat so warm. Though you take no purse and you take no staff You cannot escape the load Of a woman's longing and woman's love That follows you down the road. |
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