Classic Poem

These words were composed by Spencer the Rover,
As have travelled most parts of Great Britain and Wales;
But being reduced has caused my confusion,
And that was the very reason I set off on trails.

But at Yorkshire, near Rotherham, where I first took my ramble,
Being weary of travelling I sat down to rest.
At the foot of yonder mountain where runs a clear fountain,
With bread and cold water myself to refresh.

But it tasted more sweet than the gold I had wasted,
More sweeter than honey, and gave more content;
But the thoughts of my babies lamenting their father
Brought tears in my eye, and caused me to lament.

But the fifth of November I have reason to remember,
When first I arrived to my family and wife;
She stood so surprised when she saw me arrived,
To see such a stranger once more in her sight.

Now my children come round me with their pretty, prattling stories,
With their pretty, prattling stories to drive dull care away;
So we'll unite together, like birds of one feather,
Like the bees in one hive contented we'll be.

But now I am placed in my cottage contented,
Where the roses and woodbines grow over my door;
As contented as those who have thousands of riches,
I'll stay at home with my wife and go rambling no more.