He was the son of the king of gypsy fiddlersBut he never played the fiddle as a boyHe enlisted as a soldier in the good old oxen booksAnd left on board a sail ship bound for IndiaHe was servant to an officer who taught him how to playAnd he scraped for every minute that he couldBy the time they reached Madras he was soldDeadly on the stringsThe student was the master of his teacherHe deserted and then worked his way to EnglandWhere he joined his father's mighty fine string bandHe was handed the king's fiddleWhen his father Jasper diedHe was the son of the king of gypsy fiddlersAnd was proud to play the tunes for beer and victualsAnd then Hercules still playing at the age of eighty-twoIn Banbury's red line he chaired some tunesHe just played old Constant BillyWas relaxing with a smokeWhen some chancer walked away with his father's fiddleWell they stole the old king's fiddleBut they couldn't steal the tunesCos the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons play mighty fiddleGrandsons dance in MorissetteLet the opening notes of Constant Billy startThe chancer took the fiddle to the king's fiddleAnd offered his deposit for more beerBut the landlord called the lawAnd so the thief walked out the doorAnd he took the old king's final fiddle with himThe thief was soon arrested on the outskirts of the townHe was charged and then committed for treasonIn Banbury town court he got hard laid for three monthsBut the old king's gypsy fiddle was still missingWell they stole the old king's fiddleBut they couldn't steal the tunesCos the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons play mighty fiddleGrandsons dance in MorissetteGrandsons dance in MorissetteLet the opening notes of Constant Billy startHercules and his brothers kept on playingAnd dancing to those fine old gypsy tunesBrother Thomas left the roadAnd in Headington made homeHomeAnd his sons and grandsons danced for the quarry MorrisWell they stole the old king's fiddleBut they couldn't steal the tunesCos the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons play mighty fiddleGrandsons dance in MorissetteLet the opening notes of Constant Billy startIn Banbury town court he got hard laid for three monthsBut the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons play mighty fiddleGrandsons dance in MorissetteBut the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons play mighty fiddleGrandsons dance in MorissetteLet the opening notes of Constant Billy startIn Banbury town court he got hard laid for three monthsBut the music's in their blood and in their heartsNow his sons and grandsons danced for the quarry MorrisWell they stole the old gypsy tunesBrother Thomas left the roadAnd his brothers kept on playingAnd dancing to those fine old gypsy tunesOkay, we've got to go.Thank you.