Home Is Where One Is Contented

Even in the townland he was born and raised in he might now feel a stranger there
And in the town he now live in he is seen as one from elsewhere
Home is where you feel contented wise people are known to say
And with such thinking I do not beg to differ as I too do see it that way.

But the one with lust for wander in one place does never stay
And he yearns for a change of scenery and the green hills far away
He quickly tires of his surroundings cannot seem to settle down
And he is happy on the highway driving to another town.

But home is where one is contented was not spoken for such as he
So much like the restless river ever flowing down to the sea
Never happy in the one job of employers he has had more than a few
Never happy in the one place one who yearns for places new.

The wanderlust it will be in him even when he is old and gray
And far from the town he was born and raised in his bones will forever lay
At his happiest when he's travelling the roads of the countryside
And the World is his oyster and his World is big and wide.