This tune [bad word] by Spencer the Rover
As valliant a man had ever left home
Well he had been much reduced and caused great confusion,
And that was the reason he started to roam

In Yorkshire, near Rotherham, he had been on the ramble
And weary of travelling, he had sat down to rest
By the foot of yon mountain by a clear, crystal fountain
With bread and cold water he himself did refresh

When the night fast approaching to the woods he resorted
With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make
But he dreamt about sighing lamenting and crying
Go home to your family and rambling forsake

'Twas the fifth day of November, I have reason to remember
When first he arrived home to his family and his friends
They did stand so astounded, confused and dumbfounded
To see such a stranger once more in their sight

His children came around him with their verses and stories
Their verses and stories to drive care away
Well he's as happy as those who have thousands of riches
Contented he'll remain and not ramble away

This tune [bad word] by Spencer the Rover
As valliant a man had ever left home
Well he had been much reduced and caused great confusion,
And that was the reason he started to roam