A dusty road is mine to tread,
From grey of dawn to sunset red,
And slow my pace because, alack!
I've all my wealth upon my back.

'Tis honest toil for homely fare,
A penny here, a sixpence there,
Or maybe, on my lucky days,
A seat beside the good wife's blaze.

With fairy tales and legends gay
I cheer the lasses when I may,
And oft the little children cry,
“Be sure to call as you pass by.”