(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."