You ain’t one of us!

You don’t speak our language; you don’t accept our rites,

You love going to school, you’re never in fights,

You’re a fanny, a minge, a shame to the blood,

You don’t act or do what a gypsy lad should.

 

You ain’t one of us!

You love the gorja; you call them your friends,

The bairns of bobbies, where does your loyalty lie in the end?

You want to leave the family, the camp, the clan,

A mind full of books is no good to a real gypsy man.

 

You ain’t one of us!

You live in a caravan, three to a bed,

You steal and you con, that’s what my mam said,

Your kin always start chew in the clubs,

The locals file out when you come in the pubs.

 

You ain’t one of us!

Your pa’s been to jail,

With a family like that you’re destined to fail,

They’ll pull ya from school; you’ll be out dealing scrap,

You gyppos all fall in the same sorry trap.