(Dave Cop)
His name was Charlie Miller
And a Gypsy man was he
He knew the way to everywhere
And back again for free
He saw the kind of things
That only Gypsy eyes can see
He had a way with creatures
The birds ate from his hand
He walked the horses daily
For a rich and powerful man
But somewhere in the stables
He was hatching up a plan
The rich man had a daughter
Black hair and violet eyes
She was as pretty as a picture
But not so worldly wise
Everyone that met her
Said, she’s an angel in disguise
On Sundays she’d go riding
With Charlie as her guide
The rich girl and the Gypsy
Down by the riverside
One golden summers evening
She agreed to be his bride
SOLO
They ran away together
In the middle of the night
She could not cook or sew
He could not read or write
They didn’t have money
But a love you could not buy
And their hearts were made from gold
And there were diamonds in their eyes
She loved her Charlie Miller
‘Til the day he died