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Romany Girl
Romany girl on the silver sand
What would you have me yearning,
To take you into my loving arms
While the world lay waste, and burning
To touch the sheen of your auburn hair
While the stars look on in wonder,
And watch the hem of your gypsy dress
That tears my heart asunder.
Romany girl, is your lovely name
The Jean of a witch returning,
Or just the touch of a love-lost fool
Who’s seeking your brown eyes burning,
The spell of lace at your pretty face
Or caught at your throat a-bunching,
Or sweetness smile of your guiltless guile
Bewitching the Squire, a-lunching.
Romany girl, who struts and sways
To dance at the morning graces,
Setting the sand in either hand
To laugh at the wondering faces,
Images burn the fevered brain
Of a man who’s never been tipsy,
Dance on the silver sand again
And look for your love-lost gypsy.
18 September 1973
poem
by
David Lewis Paget
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