Gentle lady, do not trust him,
Tho’ his voice is low and sweet;
Heed not him who kneels before you,
Gently pleading at your feet.
New your life is in its morning,
Cloud not yet your happy love,
Listen to the gypsy’s warning,
Gentle lady, trust him not.
Do not turn so coldly from me,
I would only guard your youth
From his stern and withering palace;
I would only tell the truth.
I would shield you from all danger,
Save you from the tempter’s snare –
Do not trust that dark-eyed stranger;
I have warned you, now beware.
Lady, once there lived a maiden,
Pu re and bright and oh, so fair,
‘Till he wooed her, then he won her,
Filled her tender heart with care.
Then he heeded not her weeping,
Nor cared he her life to save,
Soon she perished, now she’s sleeping
In a cold and silent grave.
Keep your gold, I do not want it.
Lady, I have prayed for this –
For the hour when I might spoil him,
Rob him of expected bliss.
Gentle lady, do not wonder
At my words so cold and wild.
Lady, in that green grave yonder
Lies this gypsy’s only child.