I'm A Free Born Man

I am a freeborn man of the traveling peopleGot no fixed abode, with nomads I am numberedCountry lanes and byways were always my waysNever fancied being lumberedO we knew the woods, all the resting placesAnd the small birds sang when wintertime was overThen we'd pack our load and be on the roadThey were good old times for the roverThere was open ground where a man could lingerStay a week or two for time was not your masterThen away you'd jog with your horse and dogNice and easy, no need to go fasterNow and then you'd meet up with other travelersHear the news or else swap family informationAt the country fairs, we'd be meeting thereAll the people of the traveling nationAll you freeborn men of the traveling peopleEvery tinker, rolling stone, or gypsy roverWinds of change are blowing, old ways are goingYour traveling days will soon be over