I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw Papa would do whatever he could Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good
CHORUS Gypsys, tramps, and thieves We'd hear it from the people of the town They'd call us Gypsys, tramps, and thieves But every night all the men would come around And lay their money down
Picked up a boy just south of Mobile Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal I was sixteen, he was twenty-one Rode with us to Memphis And papa woulda shot him if he knew what he'd done
CHORUS
I never had schoolin' but he taught me well With his smooth southern style Three months later I'm a gal in trouble And I haven't seen him for a while, uh-huh I haven't seen him for a while, uh-huh
She was born in the wagon of a travellin' show Her mama had to dance for the money they'd throw Grandpa' do whatever he could Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good