Where have all the Gypsies gone ? , I don’t know

cant see thier caravans , on the woodland road

Cant hear thier violins ,playing round the fire 

where have all the Gypsies gone ?

moved to somewhere higher 

they were parked near a Butterfly tree

with Butterflies all around 

there’s nothing more beautiful 

than a butterfly tree 

till the Gypsy Queen comes round

i remember them dancing in the sunshine 

with a hoop , a ha , and a hey 

kicking boots ,in the dry Earth dust 

as the smoke , from the fire blew away 

they were stood in the coppice

with thier horses on the track 

dragging logs , behind the wagon wheels 

with thier children sitting on the back 

I heard and saw the dogs a barking 

with a sniff, a bark ,and a scratch 

dipping to drink ,in the twisting stream

then turn to go back