Inside a darkened mansion.
In a darkened room.
An old man sits there writing, in the midst of the gloom.
Emotions run though him as he remembers the distant past.
Emotions finally written
Written,
Written,
Emotions finally written, down on paper at last.
He was once a poor young gentleman living happy was he.
But all that contentment, he would never more see.
For over the top of the hill
The hill.
The hill.
For over the top of the hill,the gypsy camp would be.
The other villagers shunned them, but that was just their way.
But the young man watched them closely, watching day by day.
And it was all to try and catch a glimpse.
A glimpse.
A glimpse.
It was all to catch a glimpse, of the young gypsy maid.
Her hair was brown as mud and so were her eyes.
But as she wasn’t much to look at, you might get a surprise.
To know that the young man loved her.
Loved her.
Loved her.
The young man loved her and in thanks praised the skies!
But there are no proper words to describe the way things were.
For she liked his kindness, and he liked the same in her.
The villagers didn’t believe it.
Believe it.
Believe it.
The villagers didn’t believe it; the man loved this gypsy cur.
One day she spotted him crouching behind the roses sweet.
She held out her hand and pulled him to his feet.
And she offered him drink of water.
Water.
Water.
She offered him a drink or water, to cool the summer heat.
They talked for many hours till the rise of the moon.
Then young man said to the gypsy he should be going soon.
He walked away from the wagon.
The wagon.
The wagon.
He walked away from the wagon, and started off home.
He woke the next morning to have his world turned upside down.
For his father said he was to marry a woman from the town.
She stood beside his bedside.
His bedside.
His bedside.
She stood beside his beside, wearing a white ball gown.
His father talked of moving, from the countryside.
Where he could find a house for his son and his bride.
When the young man heard the sound.
The sound.
The sound.
The young man heard the sound of wagons preparing to ride!
A sudden madness gripped him as he ran, he followed his heart.
He ran after his loved one not wanting them to part.
But he got there to late.
To late.
To late.
But he got there to late, the wagon ride did start.
He never married and grew more and more alone.
He bought this old mansion, but never called it home.
For he trapped himself in a cage.
A cage.
A cage.
He trapped himself in a cage where no sun ever shone.
He rests down his pen his story is now told.
He sits at his desk his mansion will be sold.
For what use is it to him.
Him.
Him.
What use is it to him, now that he’s so old.
He lies down on his bed, fit for a king.
When suddenly he hears, the doorbell start to ring.
And when he answers the door.
The door.
The door.
And when he answers the door his heart begins to sing.
For in the doorway, a gypsy stands there.
Her eyes are brown as mud and once so was her hair.
She looks straight at him.
At him.
At him.
She looks straight at him and he back at her.
For now in a darkened mansion.
In a darkened room.
An old man sits there writing no longer in the gloom.
Hopes run right through him as he remembers the distant past.
Hopes finally fulfilled.
Fulfilled.
Fulfilled.
Hopes finally fulfilled, thanks to the gypsy, at last……
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