The Gypsy Girl.

She drank beneath my yellow branches
The gypsy girl in a drunken spree
The world alas had a drunken lover
Who made a secret pact with me.

She had a little pot like belly
Her skin was blue as she could be
Her eyes were misty in the morning
And yellow in the evening sea.

She lay there like a broken bird
She smelled like a forsaken bee
The ale in her mind could work out wonders
And perhaps she dreamt about me.

Who did not rhyme by their good names
Who did not come by me to plea?
The world always forgot the drunken child
Who had one and none to reap.



And then a fire had raged amongst the heaven
And all the brave men did flee
Forgotten we were when death kissed her
The earth had stood still by me.


And if you ever come around
To seek my yellow branch and knee
You will find the forgotten ashen bones
Of a drunken gypsy-girl,
Neighbouring me.