The Gypsy Woman
'Whist, is what Mammy said,
As she whisked us off to bed.
Usually we'd go quietly.
But a gypsy woman sat
At our table,
Reading tea leaves,
Guests were few,
And she, I knew,
To be a special one.
She saw dark clouds in cups.
Past the tender age,
Stayed up longer,
Heard her bray:
'Tall dark men
Are on their way.'
I pricked my ears
I tried to put both
On the vent,
Both of them
Were forward bent.
Just then my father
Climbed the stairs;
I saw the dark mop
Of his hair.
He was tall,
He wasn't humming.
No one else foresaw
But I made it to bed.
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