The Bug Of Wander In His Mind

A rough and ready sort of bloke not one for airs and graces
He has traveled one must say his share and lived and worked in many places
He has shorn in Ausiie shearing sheds many a ewe and ram and wether
In the oppressive Summer heat in the warmest sort of weather.

You won't hear him say life is hard not one who looks for pity
He has worked in New York building sites and as a drainer in London City
In his early forties he has never had a wife though he has made love to many
You ask him if he has fathered children he will say don't know of any.

A tough and hardy sort of chap he does not have a hero
He has worked in Alaskan pipelines in temperatures low as forty below zero
He has drunk as much alcohol as anyone has as well as being a heavy tobacco smoker
And he has often staked his week's earnings on a single game of poker.

The bug of wander in his mind and it never will forsake him
And he does not know or even care to where the road will take him,
With flecks of gray in his straggly brown hair his prime years are behind him
In a month from now or even less who knows where one might find him.