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I¿m settled on a site the way I¿d never thought I¿d be,
But always in my heart, the road is calling me.
The memories of my childhood running wild and free,
are always in my mind corsing longing deep in me.
In winter i am happy, to be pulled up on my plot,
For i know in winter to be settled means a lot,
But when i see the sunshine my feet begin to itch,
And i feel imprisoned, on this site I long to ditch.
The beauty of the road is not there for all to see,
Some in houses and on sites, are happy there to be.
They¿ve forgot about the good old days on the open road,
All they remember is the hunger and the dirty clothes.
But i remember raindrops falling on my trailer roof,
And the cushty trotting sound of the horses hoofs.
In every different town a cousin we would meet,
Setting round a yog at night, with them you couldn¿t beat.
In the morning in the summer as the day began
I¿d hear my father playing his accordion
Now on summer mornings all that i can hear
Is my chavvys with the telly blurring loudly in my ear
Fruit picking in the summer we always did in Kent.
In the cherry orchard was the best time that I¿ve spent.
If i could go back in time i know right where I¿d be
Setting on a cherry box as my father played for me.
My father¿s a traveller an old gypsy man,
He lives in a trailer he calls his old tan,
He set¿s around a yog, till late in the night,
Story¿s he¿ll rockker to its almost day light.
My mother¿s a traveller with old gypsy blood,
Her heart filled with gypsy motherly love,
She knows how to cook to scrub and to clean,
She will bring a good shine, to any old thing.
They live in a trailer that sparkles and shines,
With china around there¿s all different kinds,
Crown Darby and Ainslie and lots off cut glass,
Collected by my mum in the years that have past.
They live on a site that¿s just out of sight,
There are woods to the left and fields to the right.
My father as a dog it¿s an old lurcker juk,
They go get a rabbet for my mother to cook.
On Sunday they have rabbet pudding or stew,
Wash down with tea and one cup won¿t do.
Mum makes the best tea we all know that it¿s true
That¿s why for my father no one else¿s will do
My father as a lorry it¿s an old transit truck
He takes it to work with his ladders on the back
He looks for a gronta to cut down her trees
If he gets her money then his eager to please
My father and mother are two of the best
Their love for us chavvy¿s we don¿t have to test
That¿s why their chavvy¿s all live around
Because no better place could we ever have fond
your proud of who you are
your fighting for the gypsy pride
and for that you are a star
so all you gypsy haters
step back and you will see
there invite you in there trailers
sit you down and give you tea
and when youve been there half an hour
you will start to find
there really just the same as you
honest true and kind
so proud tobeagypsy
keep up your gypsy pride
and maybe one day very soon
It¿s almost time my pearly, that I¿ll have to let you go
But there¿s one thing my baby, i want you to know
I look at you and i wonder at the beauty that i see,
You¿ve turned out to be everything; i always wanted you to be.
You have pride and respect, and you hold your head high,
You please me in every way, even though you don¿t even try.
You¿ve picked someone to love, who loves you right back,
And he¿s a good choice; we both know that¿s a fact.

Wherever you go my gypsy boy your never on your own,
Because my love go¿s with you no matter where you roam.
Your gypsy girls here waiting with you in my heart,
And I pray to god to keep you safe wail we are apart.
So think of me my darling boy, setting sad and all alone,
I¿m waiting with my empty arms for you to hurry home
©2008 Gypsy Roselousie Smith
©2008 Gypsy Roselousie Smith

©2008 Gypsy Roselousie Smith
Love me for a life time, for only a life time is enough,
To live without you by my side, would really be too tough.
So walk though this world with me, and always hold my hand,
For to love you for my life time, is all that I have planed.
Kiss me in the morning; love me though out our the night,
Wrap me in your loving arms, and always hold me tight.
©2008 Gypsy Roselousie Smith
We were just chavvys when we run away, my Billy and me.
We didn’t know then just how hard things could, or would be.
All we really knew was my love for him, and his love for me.
We were really too young to be together, but to in love to be apart.
My love for my husband Billy filled ever part of my heart.
When I gave Billy his first son, I was just a girl of sixteen.
Billy was just one year more, when in this world a child we did bring.
Our first years together were hard, things were so vary tight.
By the time we reached our twenties,. We thought we had won the fight
Because we were now on how feet, life seemed so vary sweet,
But tragedy was around the coroner, just waiting for us to meet.
We had a baby daughter; sally was our pride and joy,
But the angels came and took her, and all I could do was cry.
I went in to a deep depression, I felt like I wanted to die,
But my Billy’s love for me,is what finely got me by.
i can't say my Billy's no angel, his just a every day gypsy man,
working hard all his life, to make sure his family don't clam,
how life together aint been easy, we've had lots of ups and downs,
but in Billy my darling husband, my hero i know i have fond.
when i had my Billy i was hansom, a beauty he would say he had fond,
with any beauty queen he would tell me, he knew i could stand my ground.
now the years have taken away my beauty, i can not tell no lies
but the years cant take away the beauty i still am in my Billy's eyes
We both take pride in our family; we both love our two sons,
And we love our grandchildren, each and every one.
Now the years have aged our bodies, pain as aged our souls,
But still in the arms of my Billy, I don’t feel old at all.
© 2008 Gypsy Roselousie
With black hair that glistened, like the light on her cheeks
Wavy and intricate, like the little town's streets
Her babe in her arms, singing songs of charm
They came like a pack of wolves, the horses woke, alarmed
One said; "t was by her i was conned!"
The rest sputtered and growled; "Let's get them gone!"
But their tongue she could not speak, and uttered HER words
They thought their fists would help assist her, recall the tonge she had heard
Clutching her child, protecting him from the lashes
The fire faded, as the blood strangled the ashes
Alone crying in the dark, they left him their to starve
Still wrapped in the protection of his heroic mother's arms
His voice travelled on the wings of angels
Far accross the skys and the guiding stars
...The same stars that when we are born, give us the strength of his mother's songs
What came of the boychild?
Never he died, he grew tall and lives on
In each one of us, when the Roma spirit is strong,
When a chavvy is born
With black her that glistens, bringing manna on her wings
WE call it Romanipe,
In each of us her voice still rings
© 2008 Kiron Diamond

Surrender your love to me my love and I will keep it safe
In my heart I’ll keep your love for there’s no safer place
Abandon your body to mine my love and take this gift I give
For I give the gift of me my heart, my soul, my body, my love,
Let me taste your tender lips my love as we gently kiss
And we’ll float away together in heavens happiness
So hold me tight to you my love so I can feel so safe
Wrapped in your arms my love I know there’s no safer place
I love you with a passion my dear I need you with my heart
Surrender your self to me my love please never let us part
Your mind I can not help but worship you’re body I adore
And thought out the years I know I’ll love you even more
©2007 Gypsy Roselouise Smith
I’ve been a Gypsy man all of my life,
And had my share of problems and strife.
I’ve worked like a dog, blood sweat and tears,
Hard roads, hard old days, hard old years.
Each night before bed, I look up to the sky,
And sometimes I wonder, just how I’ve got by.
With no education, and hated everywhere I go,
A million times, I’ve heard the word “no”.
I’ve walked the hard miles, for many a year,
I’ve fought my demons; I’ve fought my fear.
I’ve struggled on up, life’s never ending hill,
Often I’ve wondered, from where comes my will.
But things aren’t always as bad as they seem,
My most valuable possession is my Gypsy queen.
Though life is hard, unfair, and can be so cruel,
My woman is my God, in my crown, the jewel.
We jumped over the broomstick, at age seventeen,
And for fifty long years, my saviour she has been.
Shoulder to shoulder, we’ve travelled through life,
Through thick and thin, I’ve relied on my dear wife.
When I have been hungry, she has kept me fed,
And when I’ve been drunk, she has put me to bed.
When times have been hard, she has knocked on doors,
God love her, I’ve seen her feet, covered is sores.
She has been my friend, my confidant, and my lover,
She is a cook, a cleaner, a workhorse, and a mother.
I’ve never laid a hand on her, that wouldn’t be fair,
Besides, she can punch like a man, I wouldn’t even dare.
She gave me eight children, each one fit and strong,
Though once again we are two, for the children are gone.
They’re all grown up now, and have families of their own,
But my wife and I are so close, we work better alone.
Some men dream of money, and those men make me sigh,
For I know life’s secret: something’s money can’t buy.
Money can’t buy you love, nor can it buy you a friend,
It cant give back your youth, nor a broken heart mend.
Possessions can be replaced, and as long as you have health,
Don’t neglect life’s essentials, don’t worry about wealth.
A kind word or a tender touch, from the woman you love,
Can cure all life’s ills; and life’s stress, make you rise above.
So to my woman, my sweetheart, I will say this to you,
With out you in my life, I don’t know if I’d have gotten through,
You’ve made me the man I am, you’ve defined my whole life:
My woman my darling, my very best friend, my precious wife.
© 2008 Righteous Levi Price
I was born a gypsy gel I want to live a gypsy life
And one day I want to be a loving gypsy wife
Married to my gypsy man I’ll love him all my life
And I’ll try to be for him the perfect gypsy wife
I’ll cook, scrub and clean and keep his chavys clean
And to his bed at night my love I’ll always bring
My eyes will never wonder and my love will never end
And always and forever I know I’ll be his friend
He will have no trouble or worry that I would not share
When he face’s trouble or worry he’ll face it as a pair
And if things should be hard and tight by his side I’ll be
Working just as hard as him is where I know I’ll be
We’ll rise how chavys right with respect and dignity
He will learn how son to work the way a man should be
I’ll teach how daughter self respect so decent she will be
So when we look up on chavys it’s proud that we will be
I know the days will pass the years will come and go
But though out all time I know how love will grow
When its time to leave this world and heaven I will go
If to god I must prove my worth this I surely know
My love for my gypsy man is all I’ll have to show
©2007 Gypsy Roselousie Smith

(©Jerry Ficowski, Courtesy of USHMM)
I cry Gypsy tears
worth the struggle of a thousand years
Holding to what's dear, my ancestors whisper to me, so i have no fear
NOW i see it clear
From the hills of Northern Greece, my dear
where we are the colour of the land we walked
and the emerald seas are always near
The heart yearns for what it could not find
Longing... for the sounds that give sight to the blind
NOW i'm no longer silent, i no longer hide
A fire rages in my soul, my veins bleed music
My heart beats to the rythm of hoovebeats, always knew it
NOW i see it clear
From the fireside, amongst cinders dancing in the air
Where we are voices on the wind that echoed on the Spartan shield and spear
We are like the flowers we picked, our colors rich, and many
Our sweat the pollen to bees
Planting our roots in GOD'S world, it's not THEIR'S...
But they cannot see
I cry Gypsy tears, worth the struggle of a thousand years
Show no fear, nor crumble,
For your ancestors whisper in your ears
NOW.... now, i see it clear
why when i cry. i cry burning rivers
why i cry
Gypsy tears
© 2008 Kiron Diamond
I look around my gypsy people the pride I feel there’s none to equal
I was born a gypsy babe and I’ve loved my gypsy days
In a trailer travelling around every English country town
Now I'm settled on a site and I dream most every night
Of days long gone by picking cherries climbing high
Setting round a yog at night as my father smoked his pipe
Rokkering story’s about the past I wish them days could have last
Jelling to the lees on Sunday back to work hard on Monday
Working hard but having fun when the work was finally done
I remember lilymay all the games we use to play
Pots and pan’s dolly house cook the tea clean the house
Running wild climbing trees dirty faces scabby knees
Full of health fit and free just the way kids should be
As we grow we got closer didn’t dream id ever lose her
To the fairs and the shows we bagged how daddy’s “could we go”
Gypsy boys where there to meet us cheeky grins there to greet us
"What’s ya name?" Are you courting?" Whose ya father?" Where ya stopping?"
Epsom downs I loved the best you should have seen the way I dressed
On the rides going fast I thought my heart had beat its last
In my trailer late at night when everyone was sleeping tight
I’d close my eyes and I’d dream of my man the love he’d bring
With gypsy babies we’d be blessed and I knew we’d have the best
Big brown eyes and coal black hair the kind to make you wonna stare
Days of fun have passed so fast but my memories always last
And if my life I could live again I’d wonna live it just the same
A gypsy gel among my gypsy people for I feel there’s none to equal
©2007 Gypsy Roselousie Smith

Borrowing the earth as they travelled around
Taking no more than what was needed
A people of natural magic and healing.
An ancient race long misunderstood
The Romany Gypsy is of my blood
Telling tales of long lost dreams
I hear the voices of our ancestors' scream
Clothed in deep mystery
Children of the wind
Keepers of secrets long untold
The ancient magic of the Gypsy of old
Once lived by nature's natural laws
Respecting their creator, acknowledging all
Te wind, the trees, the animals and seas
The winged-ones, finned-ones, two-legged and four
Were sacred to the Gypsy and the earth created them all
Every living thing has a voice
A spirit and intelligence of its own
If only we would listen, can the
Truth be heard and known
This was the real way of Gypsies of old
Living in harmony with the earth to whom we belong
For from her womb we come into life and back
To her body when it's our time to die
Keepers of nature, we once were free
To roam the land and protect the woodlands and trees
An ancient race in their own right
The Gypsy Traveller ought to be seen in this light.
©2007 LAURA SAKARA MARSHALL
I hear the Goldfinch, and then I try,
To imagine the world, from a birds eye.
All through the day, up on the wing,
Oh, what joy, to hear her sing.
On wet summer days, you’ll hear me sigh,
Where is my friend, from way on high?
They sing only for the sun, so I am told,
These little wonders, in gleaming gold.
Autumn days will soon be nigh,
And the birds will leave, for southern sky.
But soon to know, what pleasure will bring,
When she comes back to me, next spring.
Manys the time, I’ve sat all day long,
Hypnotised by the magic, of the Goldfinch song.
© 2008 Righteous Levi Price

A silvery orb in a sapphire pool
Reflects upon an emerald view,
Where golden memories so much fool,
A different life, that I once knew.
Where auburn amber earth will always lay,
And crimson skies remain there still.
The mauve hues will still on seas fray
As oft those ebony moments will.
Where ivory ships their shadows cast,
And ruby rivers ever flow by,
Or amethyst sails stay on rose petal masts
When milky cream breezes around them sigh.
Where a mahogany moon rises fast,
And pastel hues begin, and then
Vibrant colour comes from a rainbow past,
To a pot of Gold on the Drom again!
©2005 SHAHNEE

Here on earth I roam
Wandering like my ancestors to find my true home
On my Mother’s body I dance like my ancestors
To awaken the magic within
To father sky like my ancestors I sing
And call the spirits
To Kam and Shon like my ancestors
I make love to honour the sacred union of life
To the sacred elements like my ancestors
I play my flute, drum and tambourine
To give thanks for all I have.
©2007 LAURA SAKARA MARSHALL

Let us join once more to tell the tales of our Romany lore.
Our past heritage we cannot loose,
Our children deserve to hear about their roots.
The storytelling around the fire and the hard work,
The traveller aspired as they journeyed to find a place,
Where we can truly belong.
But where do the gypsies really belong?
We are a mysterious folk, only that which our forbearers know,
Can we hope to find who we are.
Without our roots we cannot know this treasured kind of life.
The Romany spirit is like the wind.
These memories must be kept alive.
Our freedom gone, now where do we belong?
In houses like caged birds, we now live a new,
Our values and language has faded too!
What’s happened to our Romany ways?
But there still is a few Romany seers
That know more than most do.
They know to be true, our ways will fade too,
Until we are just a memory in books.
It is time to be proud and be who we are
And cultivate ourRomany roots!
©2007 LAURA SAKARA MARSHALL