When the tender dawn awakes
I sit on the crossroads of life
A basket full of daffodils
And a song bird by my side
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
Across the mountain I fly
Searching peace and love
And when a vale or meadow
That I find enchanting
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
The open sky, the open road
Is what I call home
Between the trees, around the swamp
Where dark eyed maidens dance and charm
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
Along the watery paths
Where ships on silver slide
I visit ancient tombs
Of prophets and seers
My gypsy blood sings
Giving me golden wings
I learn wisdom from the Incas
And partake in the dance along the Nile
But when the shadows darken
I return to my mystical fire
My gypsy blood still sings
Giving me golden wings
Summertime memories of better days
Playing outside way past dark
Bungalo was the community pool
Church picnics at Dutch Hill Park
Sliding boards and old metal swings
A box for the little ones filled with sand
There were monkey bars and seesaws
A merry go round that we turned by hand
A pavilion full of picnic tables
Where neighbors sat together to eat
And the old beat up wooden dance hall
That gave little relief from the heat
Usually they had a polka band
Playing polkas, waltzes and rock n’ roll
Wooden floor jammed with people dancing
Those memories touch my soul
Sometimes we’d run down to the baseball field
Play ball until we were soaked in sweat
Or sneak down the woods when we got a chance
We’d all have a cigarette
Then we would walk back to the picnic
Get food at the concession stand
Carry it over to the dance hall
And listen to the band
The picnics lasted until late at night
Neighbors sat talking and having a good time
A hamburger was only twenty cents
And a beer was only a dime
Take me back to those innocent days
Where my memories still roam
To church picnics at Dutch Hill Park
Saints Peter and Paul and Saint Jerome.
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