GYPSY BUNDLE
(John Farrar-Tim Rice)

This huddling in my coat, this gypsy bundle
In Liverpool, in squalor cast adrift
A dirty ragged mess of desperation
Though devil-touched I took as god’s own gift
No history, no owner, no rhyme, no reason
Nor explanation of his sorry state
And yet with all the fire of the survivor
I couldn’t leave it
I couldn’t leave it to it’s fate

What are we to do with it? 
Dirty, ragged, coloured breed
Welcome it with open arms? 
Welcome one more mouth to feed? 
Could your own blood not provide you
With the gratitude you need? 
We will call the boy Heathcliff

And every man on earth conceals a secret
On which he feeds and yet tears him apart
And in this child so great that complication
Will surely destroy the strongest heart
And as you fall into the traps he sets you
And as you’re drawn to cross his reckless line
And as I watch you peer into his darkness
I pray you’ll never search
I pray you’ll never search for mine

What are we to do with it? 
Dirty, ragged, coloured breed
Welcome it with open arms? 
Welcome one more mouth to feed? 
Could your own blood not provide you
With the gratitude you need? 
We will call the boy Heathcliff

Why should we all tolerate illegitimate demands?
Older, stronger
Years pass by: 
All slips further from our hands
We should deal with Hini in language
That the bastard understands 
We most force this foreign devil 
From this house at any price 
There’s a case for any measure 
Any crime or sacrifice

What are we to do with it? 
Dirty, ragged, coloured breed
Welcome it with open arms? 
Welcome one more mouth to Fred?
Could your own blood not provide you 
With the gratitude you need?