Silver coins that jingle-jangle, fancy shoes that dance in time, all the secrets of her dark eyes, the lady'd sing a gypsy rhyme. Yellow clover in tangled blossoms, in a meadow silky green, where she held me to her bosom, just a boy of seventeen. I recall a gypsy woman, silver spangles in her eyes, Ivory skin against the moonlight, and the taste of life's sweet wine. Soft breezes blow from fragrant meadows, stir the darkness in my mind. Oh gentle woman, you sleep beside me, and little know who haunts my mind. Gypsy lady, I hear your laughter, and the dances in my head, while my tender wife and babies slumber softly in their beds. I recall a gypsy woman, silver spangles in her eyes, Ivory skin against the moonlight, and the taste of life's sweet wine.