Melissa

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Cross-roads seem to come and go, yeah
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the gyp-sy flies, from coast to coast.
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Know-in man-y lov-in none, bear-ing sor-row 
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hav-ing f-u-n, but back home youll al-ways run,
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to sweet Mel-is-sa.
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Freight train, each car looks the same,
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all the same.  And no one knows the gyp-sys name
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No one hears his lone-ly si-gh, there_are no
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blank-ets where he l-i-e-s.
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Lord_in_the_deep-est dreams the gyp-sy flies,
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with sweet Mel-is-sa.
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A-gain the morn-ins come, a-gain hes on the run.
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Sun beams shin-in through his hair, bet-ter not
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to have a care, so pick up your gear and gyp-sy
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  roll   on,     roll   on.
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Cross-roads, will you ev-er let_him go?  No, no.
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Or will you hide the dead mans ghost?  Lord, or
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will_he lie be-neath the plain?  Or will his
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spir-it fall a-way?
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But I know that he wont stay, with-out 
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Me-lis-sa.  Yes I know that he wont stay,