My[C] family lived in [F]Wexford town, stopped travelling and [C]settled down,
Though[C] my father kept a[F] horse and car, we [C]lived within the [Am]town,
The [C]people there mis[F]understood, or [C]they did not know our [Am]ways,
So with[C] horse and car, back [F]on the road, I began my travelling [C]days

 

My father was called the Fiddler Dunne, and I'm a fiddler too,
But although I often felt his fist, he taught me all he knew,
I know I'll never be as good, and yet I feel no shame,
For the other things my father taught, I am proud to bear his name.

He 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 song,
And how to fight for what I own, and what I know is right,
And how to camp beside a ditch on a stormy winter's night.

O 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 learnt to go the road again, when they spurn the tinker man.

O Wexford is a town I like, but the 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, what has happened to the Pecker Dunne.