The Gypsy's Warning
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Series 1108 Trust him not, O gentle lady, Though his voice be low and sweet, Heed not him, who kneels before thee, Softly pleading at thy feet. Now thy life is in its morning, Cloud not this, thy happy lot, Listen to the gypsy's warning, Gentle lady, trust him not. Lady once there lived a maiden, Young and pure and, like thee, fair, Then he wooed, he wooed, he won her, Filled her gentle heart with care. Then he heeded not her weeping, Nor cared he her life to save; Soon she perished now she's sleeping In the cold and silent grave. Take your gold, I do not want it, Lady, I have prayed for thee, For the hour that I might foil him, And rob him of expected bliss. Ayel I see thou art filled with wonder, At my look so fierce and wild, Lady in that churchyard Yonder, Sleeps the gyopsy's only child." |
