Tinkerman

I'm a victim of disdain And tnker man is my nickname But I've got human heart and mind Just like all other human kind. I'm a true born itinerant Irishman And live in horse drawn caravan I travel miles and miles of road And my address 'no fixed abode'. In Ireland in this the twentienth first century There's still little love for men like me, The settled people of Ireland Our tinker ways don't understand In their eyes I am human scum A vagrant and a no good bum, Like their dads their attitude the same The down with tinker breed remain. But what care I what others say I live my life my chosen way, My mind at ease, my heart care-free Like bird that sing on leafy tree. And I am free as free as the breeze That makes strange music in the trees And I am happy as young boy Who has just received his christmas toy. I love the sound of rippling stream Singing it's way through meads of green And I love to hear a song thrush trill On leafy bough by tinkling rill. And I love to sit on moonlit night By road side fire's flickering light Beneath a starry canopy And surrounded by tranquillity. I travel Ireland up and down From place to place and town to town And sing my songs to hoof road beat The clip clop of my horse's feet. I've got good health, no ache or pain And I have no cause for complain And doctor don't have me to thank For his large sum in money bank. Through Ireland's scenic land I roam In my small four wheeled horse drawn home, Like wandering brook I roll along Singing my merry rustic song. Tinkerman is my nick name But out of woman I too came And I belong to Itinerant kin The oldest breed of Irish men.