The Travelling People

I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people

Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered

Country lanes and by-ways were always my ways

I've never fancied being lumbered

O, I knew the woods and the resting places

And the small birds sang when winter time was over

Then we'd pack our load and be on the road

They were good old times for the rover

Now I’ve known life hard and I’ve known it easy

And I’ve cursed the life when winter days were dawning

But we’ve laughed and sang through the whole night long

Seen the summer sunrise in the morning

In the open ground, you could stop and linger

For a week or two, for time was not your master

Then away you'd jog with your horse and dog

Nice and easy, no need to go faster

All you freeborn me of the travelling people

Every tinker, rolling stone, and gypsy rover

Winds of change are blowing, old ways are going

Your travelling days will soon be over.