Songtext von The Travelling People

I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people got no fixed abode with nomads I am numbered country lanes and bye ways were always my ways I never fancied being lumbered Well we knew the woods and all the resting places 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 In the 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 And sometimes you'd meet up with other travellers hear the news or else swop family information at the country fairs we'd be meeting there all the people of the travelling nation I've made willow creels and the heather besoms And I've even done some begging and some hawkin' and I've lain there spent rapped up in my tent and I've listened to the old folks talking All you freeborn men 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