Oh, paint no picture of wealth and power,
Of silks and of jewels fine.
And breathe no word of the jostling throng,
For my heart would fain be free;
I go where the woodland paths are long,
And a Romany tent for me.
Will you meet my wish, will you walk my way?
Will you chart the flower-strewn lea?
Will you curb your pride, will you keep the faith,
The faith of my company?