Tuesday, October 18, 2011

There's a race of men that don't fit in, 
A race that can't sit still; 
So they break the hearts of kith and kin, 
And they roam the world at will. 
They range the field and rove the flood, 
And they climb the mountain's crest; 
Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, 
And they don't know how to rest. 

-- Robert W. Service

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