Cross-

roads,

seem

to

come

and

go,

yeah

The

gyp-

sy

flies

from

coast

to

coast

Know-

ing

ma-

ny,

lov-

ing

none

Bear-

ing

sor-

row

hav-

ing

fun

But

back

home

he'll

al-

ways

run

To

sweet

Me-

lis-

sa

Freight

train,

each

car

looks

the

same,

all

the

same

And

no

one

knows

the

Gyp-

sy's

name

No

one

hears

his

lone-

ly

sighs

There

are

no

blank-

ets

where

he

lies

In

all

his

deep-

est

dreams

the

Gyp-

sy

flies

With

sweet

Me-

lis-

sa

A-

gain

the

morn-

ing's

come

A-

gain

he's

on

the

run

Sun-

beams

shin-

ing

through

his

hair

Ap-

pear-

ing

not

to

have

a

care

Well,

pick

up

your

gear

and

Gyp-

sy

roll

on,

roll

on

Cross-

roads,

will

you

ever

let

him

go?

Will

you

hide

the

dead

man's

ghost

Or

will

he

lie,

be-

neath

the

clay

Or

will

his

spi-

rit

float

a-

way?

But

I

know

that

he

won't

stay

with-

out

Me-

lis-

sa

Yes

I

know

that

he

won't

stay

with-

out

Me-

lis-

sa