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Gypsies
Southwest Virginia is home to tobacco country and coalfields. A dear friend grew up in one of these small towns, moved to San Francisco for a decade, and ultimately returned home. I believe that gypsies like her are special people, particularly in small towns where being different is difficult.
AM - vocals, guitar
Jeff Arey - mandolin
Laurie Rose Griffith - harmony vocals
Words & music A. McKnight, ©1998 Catalooch Music, BMI
Verse 1
This rutted road, sings an old song
of generations, that I’ve never met
leaves the gas pumps, and the street signs,
left me behind you, the last time that you went
Verse 2
you always were, a bit of a strange girl,
hearing voices, from worlds no one could see
no small town shackles, to hold your dreams down
no ties that bind you, keep you here like me
Chorus
My kin are burley, corn and coalfields
like them defined by what I know
in my heart, we’ll leave and live like gypsies,
in my life, I cannot walk where gypsies go
Verse 3
I walk the tracks, right past this station,
waiting on some ghost train, to some forgotten town
where no one knows, Father Tobacco
and my feet aren’t nailed to the ground
Chorus
