Words and music by and © Talis Kimberley, 1998

I took to the road on my good chestnut mare
On my way from the lakes down to Appleby Fair
My world and my wealth on my back as I rode
And a song for the pony to lighten her load;
On horseback through Kendal from bright Windermere
To meet with my kind as I do every year
For a drink and a wager and a song heard but once
And a warm whispered promise in the heat of the dance:

“Come to my wagon late when the fires are
Low, I’ll tell you what this gypsy
Knows – your horse and mine both tethered
Near: come to me, come to me, my dear,
Come to me, my dear”

The horse I rode then was a sturdy old bay
And I set him to graze by her her young dappled grey;
Oh, it wasn’t her eyes, though I’m sure they were fair
And it wasn’t her face, and it wasn’t her hair
But her way with the horses was subtle and fine
And she rode like a centaur, and she had to be mine
I made conversation and compliments paid,
And I was well content with the answer she made:

“Come to my wagon late when the fires are
Low, I’ll tell you what this gypsy
Knows – your horse and mine both tethered
Near: come to me, come to me, my dear,
Come to me, my dear”

My bay saw his last summer two years ago
My chestnut’s a braveheart who won’t be told ‘no’;
I’ve not missed a season at Appleby fair
But I’ve looked every year, and you are never there,
Oh, I’ve drunk and I’ve wagered as good horsemen do
I’ve watched each painted wagon, and never found you;
I’d walk barefoot from here down to Glastonbury Tor
For a whisper of you and a promise of more;

“Come to my wagon late when the fires are
Low, I’ll tell you what this gypsy
Knows – your horse and mine both tethered
Near: come to me, come to me, my dear,
Come to me, my dear”