Billy was born on Galloway Ground in 1672A gypsy boy who'd wear a crown till the ferryman's pay was dueBilly would dance any girl that he couldTwo hands through the grey wedding stoneCleaking and swinging and footing a reelSpinning each new bride homeKing of the gypsy tinklersHigh in his cave he will beKing of the gypsy tinklersRoaming and living freeHe slipped through the grip of his soldier in daysAnd skipped from a life on the seaTurned his hand to smuggle and stealStood for the poor cuckoo breedBilly Marshall was king of the gypsies they saySeventeen wives through his bedSix score years of black Galloway nightsIt was never by lawBefore he was ledKing of the gypsy tinklersHigh in his cave he will beKing of the gypsy tinklersRoaming and living freeIn seventeen yearsNinety-two the close of the dayBilly Marshall's time it had comeNo more king of the gypsies they sayHas his last adventure begunOn his grave in the churchyard the pennies still lieThere's a fare that he still has to payTwo hundred years and Billy still waitsFor his soul to be carried awayHome of the gypsies he'll stayWhere the devil can't denyHe will be thereKing of the gypsies they sayRoaming and living freeHe slipped through the grip of his soldier in daysAnd skipped from a life on the seaBilly Marshall's time it had comeTwo hundred years of black Galloway nightsHe slipped through the grip of his soldier in daysAnd skipped from a life on the seaThe king of the gypsies they sayRoaming and living freeThank you.