Gypsy Blood

My mother was a gypsy,
My father a product of war,
I was born under a tent,
In the back of a five-and-dime store.
Both my parents worked like dogs,
In the bogs picking cranberries all day,
They had six kids, five too many I would say,
Because being one was no fun,
It was a battle every day.

My father used to say to me,
There’s something that I have inbred in you,
Even if it’s the only thing I have to say,
That you’ll ever listen to:

“Don’t trust anyone,
And never let them get in your way,
There’s only winners and losers,
There’s nothing in between,
You’ll be crushed by the truth,
You must be strong and lean.”

It took some time for me to know
What my father was schooling me,
As a kid I was quite new,
And never quite could see,
But I didn’t want to live my life,
Questioning everyone I met,
And think, in spite of what they say,
They’d strip my safety net.

So I decided that I would heed my father’s words,
And lead my life as guarded as could be,
And move myself from the bog,
Deeper in the woods, deeper in the trees.
Years passed as if they were days.          
                                                                
My parents died, my siblings drifted away,
Now I was an old man with a long grey beard,
And every day, with the birds, I shared
The words my father said to me:

“Don’t trust anyone,
And never let them get in your way,
There’s only winners and losers,
There’s nothing in between.
You’ll be crushed by the truth,
You must be strong and lean.”

So in the forest, I spent my life,
Never found love, never a wife,
Just remembrances of empty days,
No children about me that I can teach them my ways,
Just solitary me, with the sky and the trees,
A lonely man at best.
But my father would be proud,
I heard his message clear and loud,
So I sang it long and not so proud. 
​
“Don’t trust anyone,
And never let them get in your way,
There’s only winners and losers,
There’s nothing in between.
You’ll be crushed by the truth,
You must be strong and lean.”