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Freeborn Man

1) I'm a freeborn man of the traveling people.
Got no fixed abode with nomads I have wandered.
Country lane and byway
Were always my way.
Never fancied being numbered.

2) Oh, I knew the woods and the resting places,
And the small bird sang when winter days were over.
Then you'd pack a load
And be on the road.
Those were good old days for a rover.

3) There was open ground where a man could linger
For a week or two for time was not our master.
Then away you'd jog
With your horse and dog.
Nice and easy, no need to go faster.

5) All you freeborn men of the traveling people,
Every tinker, rolling stone, and gypsy rover,
Winds of change are blowing
Old ways are going.
Your traveling days will soon be over.