(Dickie Peterson) I had to try the Gypsy I wanna have my fortune told She said, "what kind of love for I would surely sell my soul. Your girl, she is gone Your best friend just left town And your standin` in the middle Turn around." Well I ain`t superstitious My boots` in my bag My heat she has left me And ain`t never coming back. That`s alright with me I don`t wanna see you no more I got no good news woman That`s for sure. Gypsy, Gypsy tell me Now what I have in store Well, will I be a rich man Or will I make it be poor? She said, "Son you`re a mighty young man But there`s a lot you don`t understand The fate of every man Is in his own hands."
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