Marabelle, the gypsy girl, did love to take the stage,
But little talent did she have, even for her age,
She couldn’t dance or sing or act in any kind of way,
And owned a dozen instruments she couldn’t really play,
(which never did deter her, to the townsfolk’s deep dismay)
She’d put up flowers in her hair to look an elven queen,
And trained her faithful gypsy horse to play the tambourine
(he played it ill, but better still, than Marabelle could sing)
She’d set a hat out in the street, for all her faithful fans,
To shower her with gifts and coins to fund her future plans,
“One coin can buy an apple, and two can buy a bunch,
So when we’ve got enough to spend, we’ll stop and go to lunch!”
She’d sing to every passerby who’d listen to her riot,
And quickly they would fill her hat to buy some peace and quiet.
See, Marabelle, the gypsy girl, couldn’t dance or play,
But she had a knack for making her incompetencies pay.