Classic Poem

I'm thinking you know my uncle, sir,
And you know his name, I'll be bound
The other day his horse and he
Were travelling the country round.

My uncle went to a public-house,
And there he got beer enough;
But the poor old horse had nothing to eat
But nettles and such like stuff.

Oh, beer is the thing to cheer one's heart,
So my uncle whistled a song;
But the poor old horse had little to eat,
So he went but slowly along.

Said the man, " When a man has enough o' meat,
He whistles aloud for joy,
And if you'd a mouthful of hay to eat,
You'd go faster than this, my boy!

" What is that, my horse; oh, what is that?
On the other side of the way,
With never a soul a watching it,
There's a beautiful stack of hay! "

So this my Gipsy loses no time
A jumping over the stile;
He didn't guess there was somebody
A watching him all the while.

A little, crooked, yellow-faced man
Was sitting beneath a tree;
My uncle told me he'd ne'er beheld
Such an ugly fellow as he.

My uncle was singing " Good luck, good luck! "
But he soon let singing alone,
For the man jumped up and hollered at him,
In Rommany like his own —

" Deil take you, mischievous good-for-nought!
That game you are at won't pay;
I'll get you a month, and no mistake,
For stealing of that there hay! "

My uncle was frightened out of his wits,
He cried, " What is it I see?
That ugly chap is the deil's own self
A swearing in Rommany! "

You may take your oath that he didn't stop
A saying of, How do you do?
But he jumped on his horse and galloped like mad,
Till he got to some tents he knew.

And he said, " My lads, when you're going to steal,
Take this bit of advice from me —
Just find out first if some Gipsy deil
Ain't watching you under a tree! "