| I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show
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| My mama used to dance for the money they’d throw
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| Papa would do whatever he could
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| Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good
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| Gypsys, tramps, and thieves
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| We’d hear it from the people of the town
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| They’d call us Gypsys, tramps, and thieves
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| But every night all the men would come around
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| And lay their money down
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| Picked up a boy just south of Mobile Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal I was sixteen,
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| he was twenty-one
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| Rode with us to Memphis
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| And papa woulda shot him if he knew what he’d done
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| I never had schoolin' but he taught me well
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| With his smooth southern style
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| Three months later I’m a gal in trouble
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| And I haven’t seen him for a while, uh-huh I haven’t seen him for a while,
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| uh-huh
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| She was born in the wagon of a travellin' show
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| Her mama had to dance for the money they’d throw
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| Grandpa’d do whatever he could
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| Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good |