| This tune was composed by Spencer the Rover
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| As valiant a man as ever left home
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| And he had been much reduced
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| Which caused great confusion
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| And that was the reason he started to roam
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| In Yorkshire near Rotherham, he had been on the ramble
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| Weary of traveling, he sat down to rest
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| By the foot of yon' mountain
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| Lays a clear flowing fountain
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| With bread and cold water he himself did refresh
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| With the night fast approaching, to the woods he resorted
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| With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make
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| But he dreamt about sighing
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| Lamenting and crying
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| Go home to your family and rambling forsake
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| 'Twas the fifth day of November, I’ve reason to remember
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| When first he arrived home to his family and friends
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| And they did stand so astounded
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| Surprised and dumbfounded
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| To see such a stranger once more in their sight
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| And his children come around him with their prittle prattling stories
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| With their prittle prattling stories to drive care away
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| And he’s as happy as those
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| As have thousands of riches
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| Contented he’ll remain and not ramble away
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| This tune was composed by Spencer the Rover
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| As valiant a man as ever left home
|
| And he had been much reduced
|
| And caused great confusion
|
| And that was the reason he started to roam |