thewildrover

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't sit still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.
Robert W. Service