I'm A Free Born Man

I am a freeborn man of the traveling people
 Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
 Country lanes and byways were always my ways
 Never fancied being lumbered
 O we knew the woods, all the resting places
 And the small birds sang when wintertime was over
 Then we'd pack our load and be on the road
 They were good old times for the 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 travelers
 Hear the news or else swap family information
 At the country fairs, we'd be meeting there
 All the people of the traveling nation
 All you freeborn men of the traveling people
 Every tinker, rolling stone, or gypsy rover
 Winds of change are blowing, old ways are going
 Your traveling days will soon be over