A Gypsy Poem From Wango Tango

“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; theirs is the curse of the Gypsy blood,  and they don't know how to rest.”