THE CARAVAN
Reading edition
Far off the Fairy Horns are blowing Through the morning, through the dew, The trees of emerald green, the blue, The windy clouds all white and new, O, come-all-ye—Gypsies! There is a rustle in the leaves, a ripple in the grass, A singing in the heart my love, The brook’s as clear as glass, And there the far horizon lies, An invitation to new skies, O, come-all-ye—Gypsies!
We’ll pack the green striped caravan, Put yellow shirts on every man, And red cloaks on the lasses, And when the old have wreathed their locks, And packed their fiddles in a box We’ll trundle through the grasses. We’ll carry through this windy morn Hearts fit to meet the Fairy Horn, O, come-all-ye—Gypsies!
