THE GIPSY'S TENT.
Our fire on the turf, and our tent 'neath a tree—
Carousing by moonlight, how merry are we!
Let the lord boast his castle, the baron his hall;
But the house of the Gipsy is widest of all.
We may shout o'er our cups, and laugh loud as we will,
Till echo rings back from wood, welkin, and hill;
No joys seem to us like the joys that are lent
To the wanderer's life and the Gipsy's tent.
Carousing by moonlight, how merry are we!
Let the lord boast his castle, the baron his hall;
But the house of the Gipsy is widest of all.
We may shout o'er our cups, and laugh loud as we will,
Till echo rings back from wood, welkin, and hill;
No joys seem to us like the joys that are lent
To the wanderer's life and the Gipsy's tent.
Some crime and much folly may fall to our lot;
We have sins; but pray where is the one who has not?
We are rogues, arrant rogues:—yet remember! 'tis rare
We take but from those who can very well spare.
We have sins; but pray where is the one who has not?
We are rogues, arrant rogues:—yet remember! 'tis rare
We take but from those who can very well spare.
26
