richard thompson
gypsy love
Tropical night, malaria moon Dying stars of the silver screen Oh she danced that famous gypsy dance With a hole in her tambourine I was young enough and dumb enough I swallowed down my Mickey Finn She'd hijacked a few hearts, all right I went into a tail spin Oh, don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up again I put my arm around her waist Says she "Young man, you're getting warm" The room was going somewhere without me And she laughed as she read my palm Oh, don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up again Oh stillborn love, passionate dreams, pitiful greed And the silver tongues of the tinker girls Who throw the book of life at you But they don't know how to read She was a third generation Transylvanian I was the seventh son of a seventh son I begged the band "Don't play that tune. Please don't beguine the begun" When I awoke, she'd cut and run She stole my blueprints and my change Just a horseshoe and a note on the bed And all it read was "Strange" Don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me, don't sing me Don't sing me no more gypsy love songs Don't stir it up again