Cher

I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show
My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw
Papa would do whatever he could
Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of doctor good
Gypsys, tramps, and thieves
We'd hear it from the people of the town
They'd call us gypsys, tramps, and thieves
But every night all the men would come around
And lay their money down
Picked up a boy just south of mobile
Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal
I was sixteen, he was twenty-one