(Dickie Peterson) I had to try the Gypsy I wanna have my fortune told She said, "what kind of love for I would surely sell my soul. Your girl, she is gone Your best friend just left town And your standin' in the middle Turn around." Well I ain't superstitious My boots' in my bag My heat she has left me And ain't never coming back. That's alright with me I don't wanna see you no more I got no good news woman That's for sure. Gypsy, Gypsy tell me Now what I have in store Well, will I be a rich man Or will I make it be poor? She said, "Son you're a mighty young man But there's a lot you don't understand The fate of every man Is in his own hands."