THE PATTERAN
I’M married to a proper wife,My home is clean and neat,But I hear the gypsies calling me,I love the dancing feet.I long to up and follow themOver the rolling moor;I sicken of my own hearth-fire,The lilacs by the door.I long to see the sweep of starsWheel nightly overhead;I want the four strong winds to beThe four posts of my bed.I long to wake at dawnWhen all the world is grey and cool,And slip into the lonely depthOf a mountain pool.Three meals my wife sets for me—Enough for any man.But on her freshly sanded floorI see the patteran.
I’M married to a proper wife,My home is clean and neat,But I hear the gypsies calling me,I love the dancing feet.I long to up and follow themOver the rolling moor;I sicken of my own hearth-fire,The lilacs by the door.I long to see the sweep of starsWheel nightly overhead;I want the four strong winds to beThe four posts of my bed.I long to wake at dawnWhen all the world is grey and cool,And slip into the lonely depthOf a mountain pool.Three meals my wife sets for me—Enough for any man.But on her freshly sanded floorI see the patteran.
I’M married to a proper wife,My home is clean and neat,But I hear the gypsies calling me,I love the dancing feet.
I long to up and follow themOver the rolling moor;I sicken of my own hearth-fire,The lilacs by the door.
I long to see the sweep of starsWheel nightly overhead;I want the four strong winds to beThe four posts of my bed.
I long to wake at dawnWhen all the world is grey and cool,And slip into the lonely depthOf a mountain pool.
Three meals my wife sets for me—Enough for any man.But on her freshly sanded floorI see the patteran.