This is dedicated to my beloved kumpania as they journey to our home camp at Pennsic. Latcho drom!-Dulcy
(can be sung to the tune of Lord Inchiquin by Turlough O’Carolan.)
Where the road runs to nothing in a swamp dark and deep
And mountains lean closely, their secrets to keep
Far away from the battles, the castles, and forts
The trees, fey, and ragged-folk there hold their court
There, the weary can dance and the burdened can sing
One can be what one dreams, and dare dream anything
Gypsies circle the bonfire, their hands to entwine
And for one fierce, wild, sweet moment, step back in time
Where the river sings love songs, and damselflies kiss
If that’s not a miracle, tell me what is
Where sunbeams, like dancers, swirl under the trees
And laughter of gypsies floats sweet on the breeze
And at night, when dark maidens twirl bright with the fire
Golden sparks, winged with joy, fly to dance with the stars
Here dreams bloom like flowers, hope opens like leaves
Here storybooks quicken, and fairy tales breathe
Ever Autumn by evening, and Summer by day
Here the walls between fancy and real melt away
Here all souls find their rest, and all hearts find their bliss
If that’s not a miracle, tell me what is.
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