My family lived in Wexford town
Stopped traveling and settled down
Though me father kept a horse and car
Oh, we lived within the town
The people there misunderstood
Oh, they did not know our ways
So with horse and cart, back on the road
I began my travelling days
My father was called the Fiddler Dunne
And I’m a fiddler too
Although I often felt his fist
Oh, he taught me all he knew
I know I’ll never be as good
And yet I feel no shame
For the othеr things my father taught
I am proud to bear his name
Hе taught me pride and how to live
Though the road is hard and long
And how a man will never starve
With a banjo, fiddle or a song
And how to fight for what I own
And what I feel is right
And how to camp beside a ditch
On a stormy winter’s night
Oh, times were good and times were bad
And people cruel and kind
But what I learned of people then
Has stayed within my mind
I’ll honour friends with all my heart
Do for them all I can
But I’ve learned to go the road again
Where they spurn a tinker man
Oh, Wexford is a town I like
But a travelling man they scorn
And a man must feel affection for
The town where he was born
I know one day, that I’ll go back
When my travelling days are done
And people will begin to wonder
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