Lyrics:
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These words were composed by Spencer the Rover
Who traveled Great Britain and most parts of Wales.
He had been so reduced, which caused great confusion
And that was the reason he went on the roam.
In Yorkshire, near Rotherham, he had been on his rambles.
Being weary of traveling, he sat down to rest.
At the foot of yonder mountain there runs a clear fountain
With bread and cold water he himself did refresh.
It tasted more sweeter than the gold he had wasted,
More sweeter than honey and gave more content,
But the thoughts of his babies, lamenting their father
Brought tears to his eyes which made him lament.
The night fast approaching, to the woods he resorted
With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make.
There he dreamt about sighing, lamenting and crying
Go home to your family and wandering forsake.
On the fifth of november, I've a reason to remember,
When first he arrived home to his family and wife.
They stood so surprised, when first he arrived
To behold such a stranger once more in their sight.
His children came around him with their prittle prattling stories,
With their prittle prattling stories to drive care away.
Now they are united, like birds of one feather
Like bees in one hive, contented they'll be.
So now he is a living in his cottage contented
With woodbine and roses growing all around his door.
He's as happy as those who have thousands of riches.
Contented he'll stay and go a rambling no more.
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