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´d do whatever he could Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good
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