The Durzet Baird Ray Wills
Louie Foot
Louie foot the gypsy rode an old Ford T
she was a real coolest lady you ever did see
she gave lifts to the clan through rossmore steep hills n lanes
services through alder hills to upon hill n back again
Ted Sherwood was the boxing king
He was a true preacher diddy coy
He won so many lonsdale belts
First won coconuts at Poole fair shies n gave foes a black eye
Mrs bonham Christie was a sad recluse
on brownsea island shores
she had a wicked gun they said
she fired it all twelve bore
Lord and lady wimborne lived at Canford School
The amity was a flea pit in the old town of Poole
Poole had two white hearts plus a pub with no name
whilst the grasshoppers danced opposite Bournemouth's fast lane
Our trousers were short then and our legs were so sore
Though the gentry were rich landowners and we were so poor
Poole had a promenade amidst of the quay
where the sailors all danced their nights on the spree
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Atchin Tan
They built them there a atchin tan
with concrete base and barbed wire surround
no more were they a free race lore
with open Sky's and heather floor
Now they partook the gorja ways
so its kushti bok and taxing days
no more the traditions of the gypsy clan
for now they twer part of the master plan
The 1994 act was introduced
to rob them of their rights and truce
each one imprisoned like a criminal for their nomadic ways
like a fortress camp in a Freeman's grave
The traditional skills were just old hat
their weaving baskets and ladies hats
no more the land to plant n sow
with ponies braided for to show
Still the dreams live on in Romany
like the life of the poor old didikie
where wagons rolled and stories told
in the past down gypsy roads
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Bender Days
We all shared our benders there amongst the heathers deep
with granfer George and Mary Sweet with jackals at our feet
there we shared our rabbit's stew and ate fagots in a pie
they smoked the herbs amongst the downs where country folk passed by
The greens were rich upon the moors where the foxes built their dens
where horses lay and cockerel's crowed and rich folk hurried bye
the streams were rich with fishes then and springs upon the downs
where twas warblers sung afore the dawn and Mary gear passed by
The days were hard and folks did cry of cold and lack of grub
where briar's stretched across the heaths of ladies of the crown
though winds were harsh and nights were cold we shared our love and more
we sung our songs and shared our dreams each day upon the moors
The gypsy folks and traveler's no more do roam this land
where man has sold the heaths for gain and built a promised land
of bricks and sand and glass with frames where idle men doth walk
where monies gained and fools are framed with fun and idle talk
Long gone are the days of wagons wheels var dos and benders frames
where rabbits ran and gypsy son was singing in the rain
the tracks have gone and heathers grand across that fertile land
where dreams awoke and child first spoke at new dawn on the morn
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Cinderella rose lee
Cinderella the gypsy lived upon the great South Shore
where the Blackpool Golden mile stretched and was well worth waiting for
They called her Rose Lee for she was a seer and true
she told you lots of fortune tales on the beach at old Blackpool
Her booth it was well lit up with pictures by the score
close by the donkeys serenades upon the Blackpool shore
she wore a scarf of gaiety and her lamp it was well lit
her cards spread on the table just across from where's you sit
Her eyes they looked right into you and read your mind and soul
she was dark and beautiful and her rings she did fare show
her dress was long and dignified like a lady of good taste
her skin was dark and mystical and her beauty in her face
Of all the gypsy ladies her words were true to form
she told you how it was from the day that she was born
her booth no longer sits there on Blackpool's golden mile
where lads and lassies came to call to see her golden smile
Louie Dingwall-Foott in later years
The Gorse and the Briar
As a child i did play in the gorse and the Brier
I lit up the heath with a match made a fire
the fire engines came from Poole town that day
some came from ferndown and a longs way away
Oh i collected the coney's from top of lodge hills
with sacks and my go cart of rusty of wheels
I chased on the heath the Rabbits and hares
before i went in the nights to visit Poole fair
I knew all the gypsies that ran on the sands
with lizards and adders and their diddy coy bands
there was birdsong and laughter and fern that went out to Poole
where the bog stretched across to meet Waterloo
The gypsy queen told me that if i was real good
she would tell me my fortune with the clans brotherhood
I was raised on the Manning's where the goldfinch were in tune
where the gaffer was rogers and the sun shone each noon
Though the pathways have gone now and its Industrial land
where the tower park stretches with houses so grand
though i can still hear the warblers as they sing in the briar's
whilst the pony's are staked out on the grasslands a while
Gone are the travellers and the noble lord guest
with the house and the lodge where the Freemasons met
only our memories all haunt us today
as we ponder and gaze at the hills far away
