they ride the rustic world of caravans
their dreams and visions in their hands
their only refuge is their plans
somewhere remote within this world of sin
they travel free remembering
when men were free and words were Truth
rabbits ran free upon the heaths
the fox was king and heather grew
upon the heaths of Waterloo
onward to justice they strive to seek
a place called home just out of reach
their tinker talk their roaming eyes
their search for Truth and enterprise
their music rich their dance so free
upon those hills of liberty
their covered wagons of antiquity
their words of diddyke and roman slang
their golden chests
their dreams of man
across the continent they dd roam
with heathered sprigs and fortunes home
there beneath the starlit skies
they smoked their pipes and planned their guise
where birds nest soup and bark of tree
hid all their dreams in sanctuary
they set their course
for liberty