I'm a freeborn man of the traveling people
Got no fixed abode with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and bye ways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered

Well, we knew the woods and all 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

In the open ground where a man could 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

And sometimes we'd meet up with other people
Hear the news or else swop family information
At the country fairs we'd be meeting there
All the people of the traveling nation

I've made willow creels and the heather besoms
And I've even done some begging and some hawking
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 traveling people
Avery tinker rolling stone and gypsy rover
Winds of change are blowing old ways are going
Your traveling days will soon be over 

I'm a freeborn man of the traveling people
Got no fixed abode with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and bye ways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered