Gypsy Meditation


While I was waiting around on the Top of the World Highway for the Amateur Radio Geeks in our camping team to finish up their Field Day project, I climbed to the topmost point around and had myself a good think. In Dawson City, we'd visited the home of Robert Service who wrote some good poems. I wondered if he had RVers in mind when his wrote these lines:


And when we're tired of that, my friend, oh, you will come with me;

And we will seek the sunlit roads that lie beside the sea.

We'll know the joy the gipsy knows, the freedom nothing mars,

The golden treasure-gates of dawn, the mintage of the stars.

We'll smoke our pipes and watch the pot, and feed the crackling fire,

And sing like two old jolly boys, and dance to heart's desire;

We'll climb the hill and ford the brook and camp upon the moor...

Old chap, let's haste, I'm mad to taste the Joy of Being Poor.