Ridey
idey din O din O dee
Ridey idey din O dady;
He
married me against his will
He’s gone with a gypsy lady!
– Old Song
I.
With
horses black and horses white, and wagons painted net
The
gypsy band twice every year goes through old Gungy street.
And
little ponies trail behind to get a smack of grass,
And
everyone in Gungywamp turns out to see ‘em pass.
They’ve
got wagons big and wagons small and wagons covered tight,
Because
they have their mysteries they want to keep from sight;
And
everybody everywhere is promptly on the scene,
All
trying every way they can to see the Gypsy Queen.
II.
‘Cause
Gypsy Queens are always fair, with eyes like stars at night
With
raven locks upon their heads, and teeth most wondrous white;
At
least that’s what we always thought, although we’d never seen
In
all our lives of wondrous sights a really Gypsy Queen.
The
Queen of course rode languidly upon a couch of furs
Within
the covered wagon where al luxuries were hers;
And
just to see her would have been a joy personified –
Alas!
The cortege always passed and she remained inside.
III.
The
Gypsy Band came from the west and wound through the Gungy town,
The
men wore hair ‘twas black and long, their skins were hard and brown.
Some
lounged upon the wagon seats, while others rode astride
And
rounded up the little ones that lagged along the side.
Beyond
the town they pitched their tents and camped beside the “Ceek”,
And
turned their horses out to grass to make ‘em fat and sleek;
They
built their campfires, cooked their meals and lounged the long days through,
And
all the boys in Gungy town wished they were gypsies too.
IV.
Men
came from here and there and bought a horse or made a trade,
And
women had their fortunes told by some half-hidden maid;
Sometimes
they bought a string of beads or baskets made of grass,
And
men folks tried to win a smile from some fair gypsy lass.
And
then the gypsy men would scowl and show just how they felt,
And
put their hands upon a knife they had inside a belt.
And
then our men would get right scared and let the girls alone,
And
start to talking business then in quite a different tone.
V.
Bye
‘n bye the gypsy camp would break to seek another spot;
The
teams were hitched and off they went from Gungy on the trot.
And
then would come the startling news some child was missing, and
Of
course the people thought at once about the gypsy band.
The
men seized horses and their guns and gave a lively chase
And
rounded up the gypsy band in some far lonely place.
The
village sheriff he would search the outfit through and through
But
never could the missing child once be brought in view.
VI.
The
gypsies stood there sullen like till they were told to go,
And
back would come the rescue crowd to town sad-like and slow.
And
then they’d meet some messenger who’d say the child was found
Off
to its kindly grandmamma’s where it was safe and sound.
And
so the gypsies come and go each year through Gungy street,
With
horses black and horses white, and wagons painted neat.
And
every time we try to see the Gypsy Queen, and true,
Each
time we heave a sigh and wish that we were gypsies too.
Aug.
11, 1911
cortege (or cortège) – a procession, especially a ceremonial one.
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