Time, you old gipsy man, Will you not stay? Put up your caravan Just for one day? All things I’ll give you, Will you be my guest? Bells for your jennet or silver the best. Goldsmiths will beat you A great golden ring. Peacocks will bow to you, Little boys sing, Oh, and sweet girls will Festoon you with may. Time, you old gipsy. Why hasten away?