| I was wooed in the wagon of a Massey F’son
|
| My daddy used to holler and the fella he’d run
|
| Brother did whatever he could
|
| Drink a jar of Jasper’s
|
| Bag a brace of rabbits with stone and wood
|
| Gypsies, tramps and thieves
|
| We’d hear it from the people of the town
|
| They’d call us
|
| Gypsies, tramps and thieves
|
| When late at night all the bikers came around
|
| We send 'em back to town
|
| There once was a bloke who owned a Capri
|
| Sideburns and flares, he was learning Tai Chi
|
| Said he’d take me to a sacred land
|
| I was young and restless
|
| Got as far as Weston and passed out on the sand
|
| Gypsies, tramps and thieves
|
| We’d hear it from the people of the town
|
| They’d call us
|
| Gypsies, tramps and thieves
|
| When late at night all the men would come around
|
| And get our trolleys down
|
| That long summer was a whirl of madness on the wild
|
| Weston shore
|
| We played bingo and the one-armed bandits
|
| And I’m sure he took me for a whore
|
| I really should have shown him the door
|
| She was born in the wagon of a Massey F’son
|
| I began to holler and the fella he ran
|
| I just did whatever I could
|
| Drank a jar of Jasper’s
|
| Probably much more than a mother should |