lay the sleepy children down battered hand on baby s brow embers turn the night to smoke bottle shells of revelry and ghosts of old jokes horses thethered tight to their meins in the beds of straw the strong arms fade what are the words of the gypsy lament carnival not haunted by the lent sing of no surrender soft fiddle crack in the cellar shack that look on his face said don t come back as the crusty and the gypsy had their spat which one knows less of the land one has asked the other if there s space the other laughs he ll hardly last the day grow all your beanfields and you pay no rent can you really sing the rogue s lament you ll hang before you surrender you ll hang before you surrender you ll hang before you surrender i will not surrender the boy could have grown to never strain a hand yet now he speaks of working his own land and father s bribery is all for naught for the moral of these stories can t be bought how i marvel when ivy leagues is shed to tend the wheat that s soon to be your bread if you choose rebellion over sweet content can you really sing the rogue s lament again no i ll sing the rogue s lament never again i ll sing the rogue s lament never again when you roll your own bed always be out of lead ya cannot sing the rogue s lament again i ll sing the rogue s lament never again i ll sing the rogue s lament never again when you bake your own bread the baker s always a friend ya cannot sing the rogue s lament again i ll sing the rogue s lament never again i ll sing the rogue s lament never again when you roll your own bed always be out of lead ya cannot sing the rogue s lament ya cannot sing the rogue s lament you ll sing the rogue s lament never again 