Romany Roots and the Traveller's lament - by Ray Wills
Romany Roots
He had travelled through those Romany roots
where cultures and heartaches
were seldom foolproof
he'd walked o'er the footpaths
where thorns tagged your toes
where rabbits and foxgloves
bridled your clothes
he'd stumbled on wise folk
who'd been through the wars
when peace was a have
and Truth was ones word
His clothes they were tattered
and his language was rich
he'd laid in the gutters the sideways and ditch
The lore of his nation was caste to the winds
where freedom was gifted with Romany rings
where the sun hit you blindly
each morning at dawn
where the heavens were open
and your ways were forlorn
The paths that had ventured o'er valley and dale
with scent of the flower and the rich golden smells
where your fortune was told through the wink of an eye
where fairgrounds were rolling and spirits were high
like days long ago when the soil was rich
they travelled their wagons through mud and low ditch
where heather and fern stretched for many a mile
where the Romany roots were a haven a while
where the man was renowned for the good in his smile
Travellers Lament
She took a reading whilst he worked the forge
She collected flowers and mixed the herbs
He bred the horses and mules a few
it was full of birdsong on the heaths of Poole
He worked the fairgrounds whilst she flew the darts
He rode the cars it was starlight in the dark
She cooked the stew whilst he told the tales
the land was rich then with wagons ponies and tails
He shook the hands and bartered deals
She picked the fruit turn turn turn wagon wheels
they used the stopping places and atchen tans
He told the stories he was the man
wise old ways gypsy man
She stood for Munnings art pictured frames
Stanley's, Lees, Coopers, James the same
She dressed in skirts and wore gay bright rings
He wore the waistcoat and boxed the sports of kings
She fashioned flowers with paper crepe
He worked with clay gravel and bricks
She sang the songs of Caroline Hughes
He wrote the stories like Dominic Reeves
She modelled for Augustus John at Alderney
He built the cottages Lady Wimborne rented free
She danced at pubs in new forest glades
he collected iron scrap
She was a Queen thousands were at her grave
He was a scholar poet bard
She was a countess whilst he played the cards
She was a sweetheart of Byron too
He was a wanderer traveller from Poole
She was a coal merchant whilst he was a Gypsy king
She was a Crutcher he was a White
where miners did sing.
She was a dreamer whilst he was a priest
She saved lives he saved souls to teach
She was a beauty and he was a rogue
She was a prophet indisposed
He was a fool
they rode their wagons
through the streets of Poole
Ray Wills
Ray Wills is a Dorset-born Romani poet and author. His works can be purchased through his Amazon account: Amazon.co.uk: Ray Wills: books, biography, latest update
TT Poetry
(Artwork - artists unknown - used with the kind permission of the Robert Dawson Collection)