Tales Of Old

Come gather round my children

This campfires burning bright 

I'll tell you of our history 

As smoke turns into night 

It's all about the old days 

When life was fancy free

These tales of old, long in the past 

My father told to me

He would sit beside the fire

With his pipe held in his hand...

And drift away to places seldom seen 

And he'd tell the tales of old

Through the hardships and the cold

And he'd take us to the places he had been 

Back then the roads we travelled 

In caravans and horse 

We'd leave the last place in our tracks

And move with no remorse 

My father lead the way

With his family close behind 

A better place in fields ahead

He had the skills to find

Then he'd sit beside the fire

With his pipe held in his hand...

And drift away to places seldom seen 

And he'd tell the tales of old

Through the hardships and the cold

And he'd take us to the places he had been

When winter snows were falling 

We'd settle through the storm 

My father told me at this time 

Was when his son was born 

And like the troubled winds 

That blew from overhead 

"You'll travel with them endlessly" 

Is what my father said

As he sat beside the fire

With his pipe held in his hand...

Where he'd drift away to places seldom seen 

And he'd tell the tales of old

Through the hardships and the cold

And he'd take us to the places he had been

My mother did the chores 

And my sisters helped her cook 

I helped my father build the camp

Fetched water from the brook

We sat and ate our meals 

By the fire 'most every night

And listened to the tales of old

Beneath the pale moonlight

We would sit beside the fire

Watch the pipe held in his hand...

And drift away to places seldom seen 

As he'd tell the tales of old

Through the hardships and the cold

And he'd take us to the places he had been

One day you'll tell your children

These stories you have heard 

You'll tell them of the gypsy way

As in your fathers word

So get yourselves to bed now

This day is nearly done 

We're on the road come morning 

With the rising of the sun

Let me sit beside the fire 

With my pipe held in my hand... 

And drift away to places seldom seen 

Go dream the tales of old 

There are new ones to be told

When i take you to the places i have been