The Poetry Corner

The Gypsy's Selling Song.

By Jean Ingelow

My good man - he's an old, old man - And my good man got a fall, To buy me a bargain so fast he ran When he heard the gypsies call: "Buy, buy brushes, Baskets wrought o' rushes. Buy them, buy them, take them, try them, Buy, dames all." My old man, he has money and land, And a young, young wife am I. Let him put the penny in my white hand When he hears the gypsies cry: "Buy, buy laces, Veils to screen your faces. Buy them, buy them, take and try them. Buy, maids, buy."