wide lovely black eyes
long black hair
smiles that bring to my mind
fresh pomegranates in the rain
she'll never be mine, no
and she'll remain a picture on the walls of my mind,
o' gypsy heart of mine, y must we crave a home, or a steady sun,
the cold and the frosts are mine, that's our realm, our ice cold realms,
we shall swim in our world in the fogs, and lakes and placid pines
when she has gone following her path;
and i am lonely again,
and when the ice shall melt my heart
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