by John Walcot (1738 - 1819)
A Gypsey Ballad
Language: English
A wandering Gypsey, Sirs, am I, From Norwood, where we oft complain, With many a tear and many a sigh, Of blust'ring winds and rushing rain. No rooms so fine, nor gay attire, Amid our humble shed appear, Nor beds of down, nor blazing fire, At night our shiv'ring limbs to cheer. Alas! No friends come near our cot, The Red-breasts only find the way, -- Who give their all, -- a simple note, -- At peep of morn, and parting day. But fortunes here I come to tell: Then yield me, gentle Sir, your hand; -- Amid those lines what thousands dwell! And bless me what a heap of land! This surely, Sir, must pleasing be, To hold such wealth in every line! Try, pray now try, if you can see A little treasure lodg'd in mine. (holding out her hand.)
Confirmed with The Scots Magazine, volume LV, Edinburgh: Murray and Cochrane, May 1793, page 243.
Authorship:
- by John Walcot (1738 - 1819), "A Gypsey Ballad" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in English, [adaptation] ; composed by Ludwig van Beethoven.
Researcher for this page: Melanie Trumbull
This text was added to the website: 2018-12-11
Line count: 21
Word count: 138