I'm thinking you know my uncle, sir,
And you know his name, I'll be bound
The other day his horse and he
Were travelling the country round.

My uncle went to a public-house,
And there he got beer enough;
But the poor old horse had nothing to eat
But nettles and such like stuff.

Oh, beer is the thing to cheer one's heart,
So my uncle whistled a song;
But the poor old horse had little to eat,
So he went but slowly along.

Said the man, " When a man has enough o' meat,
He whistles aloud for joy,
And if you'd a mouthful of hay to eat,
You'd go faster than this, my boy!

" What is that, my horse; oh, what is that?
On the other side of the way,
With never a soul a watching it,
There's a beautiful stack of hay! "

So this my Gipsy loses no time
A jumping over the stile;
He didn't guess there was somebody
A watching him all the while.

A little, crooked, yellow-faced man
Was sitting beneath a tree;
My uncle told me he'd ne'er beheld
Such an ugly fellow as he.

My uncle was singing " Good luck, good luck! "
But he soon let singing alone,
For the man jumped up and hollered at him,
In Rommany like his own —

" Deil take you, mischievous good-for-nought!
That game you are at won't pay;
I'll get you a month, and no mistake,
For stealing of that there hay! "

My uncle was frightened out of his wits,
He cried, " What is it I see?
That ugly chap is the deil's own self
A swearing in Rommany! "

You may take your oath that he didn't stop
A saying of, How do you do?
But he jumped on his horse and galloped like mad,
Till he got to some tents he knew.

And he said, " My lads, when you're going to steal,
Take this bit of advice from me —
Just find out first if some Gipsy deil
Ain't watching you under a tree! "