I'm A Freeborn Man
I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people
no fixed address with nomads I am numbered.
Country lanes and byways were always my ways.
I never fancied being
Oh we knew the woods and the resting places,
the small birds sang when winter times were over,
Then you'd pack your load and be on the road
They were good old
times for a rover.
There was open ground where a man could linger,
Stay 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
Now and then you'd meet up with other travellers,
Hear the news and swap family information.
At the country fairs we'd be meeting there
With the people of the travelling
Oh. I've ken't life hard and I've ken't it easy,
And I've cursed the time when winter down was coming,
And I've danced and sang all the whole night long,
summer sunrise in the morning.
All you freeborn men
of the travelling people,
Every tinker, rolling stone and gypsy rover -
Winds of change are blowing, old ways are
Your travelling days will soon be over.