She was born beside the seashore
And she always loved to roam
With that peculiar look of wonder in her eye
And she always loved the sunshine
Just as well she loved the rain
And soon she learned that her favourite word
Was why
Well 'round about September
Just about once a year
An old pedlar would come to the kitchen door
And his wrinkles held the ages
And his laughter caught the sun
And he'd smile and he'd wink
And he'd sing this song to her
You should have been gypsy born
Little one with the distant eyes
You should have been gypsy born
I feel the wind in your mind
A restless yearning for to find
The path that's wild
And will lead you past the sky
Well if you follow down the path
Of the lonesome seagull's call
You'll find your way, you'll find your way
Then he'd tell her tales of places
Of people and of things
Of those he'd loved and those he'd turned aside
And her eyes would seem to glisten
As she listened by his knee
Oh take me with you
Her heart used to cry
The day would pass, the evening come
And still they'd sit awhile
The old pedlar and the girl he loved so well
Then he'd get up from the back porch
And as he turned to walk away
In his smile she could hear that old man say
You should have been gypsy born...