I was born in the wagon of a travelling show
My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw
Papa would do whatever he could:
preach a little gospel --
sell a couple of bottles of Doctor Good.
(Chorus:)
Gypsies, tramps, and thieves
We'd hear it from the people of the town, they'd call us
Gypsies, tramps, and thieves
But ev'ry night all the men would come around,
and lay their money down (fine).
Picked up a girl just south of Mobile
We gave her a ride, filled her with a hot meal
She was sixteen, I was twenty-one
Rode with us to Memphis --
and papa would have shot me if he knew what I'd done.
Chorus
I never had school, but she taught me well
with her smooth southern style
Three months later she's a girl in trouble
|: [And/Oh oh] the Lord blessed us with a child :|
da capo al fine
Coda=Chorus