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Chorus: |
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Oh, there're sober men and plenty, |
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and drunkards barely twenty, |
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There are men of over ninety |
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who have never yet kissed a girl. |
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But give me a ramblin' rover, |
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from Orkney down to Dover. |
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We will roam the country over |
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and together we'll face the world. |
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There's many that feign enjoyment |
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from merciless employment, |
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Their ambition was this deployment |
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from the minute they left the school. |
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And they save and scrape and ponder |
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while the rest go out and squander, |
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See the world and rove and wander |
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and are happier as a rule. |
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Chorus |
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I have roamed through all the nations |
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in delight of all creations, |
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And enjoyed a wee sensation |
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where the company, it was kind. |
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And when barkin' was no pleasure, |
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I've drunk another measure |
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To the good friends that were treasure |
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for they always around were mine. |
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Chorus |
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If you're bent with arthritis, |
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your bowels have got Colitis, |
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You're gallopin' with balacitis |
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and you're thinkin' it's time you died, |
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If you been a man of action, |
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though you're lying there in traction, |
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You will get some satisfaction |
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thinkin', "Jesus, at least I tried." |
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Chorus x2 |
