There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest. Robert W. Service
2 comments:
Decorated for Palm Sunday. Nice!
There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't sit still
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest;
Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.
Robert W. Service
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