Tinkerman Poem by Francis Duggan

Tinkerman



I'm a victim of disdain
And tnker man is my nickname
But I've got human heart and mind
Just like all other human kind.

I'm a true born itinerant Irishman
And live in horse drawn caravan
I travel miles and miles of road
And my address 'no fixed abode'.

In Ireland in this the twentienth first century
There's still little love for men like me,
The settled people of Ireland
Our tinker ways don't understand

In their eyes I am human scum
A vagrant and a no good bum,
Like their dads their attitude the same
The down with tinker breed remain.

But what care I what others say
I live my life my chosen way,
My mind at ease, my heart care-free
Like bird that sing on leafy tree.

And I am free as free as the breeze
That makes strange music in the trees
And I am happy as young boy
Who has just received his christmas toy.

I love the sound of rippling stream
Singing it's way through meads of green
And I love to hear a song thrush trill
On leafy bough by tinkling rill.

And I love to sit on moonlit night
By road side fire's flickering light
Beneath a starry canopy
And surrounded by tranquillity.

I travel Ireland up and down
From place to place and town to town
And sing my songs to hoof road beat
The clip clop of my horse's feet.

I've got good health, no ache or pain
And I have no cause for complain
And doctor don't have me to thank
For his large sum in money bank.

Through Ireland's scenic land I roam
In my small four wheeled horse drawn home,
Like wandering brook I roll along
Singing my merry rustic song.

Tinkerman is my nick name
But out of woman I too came
And I belong to Itinerant kin
The oldest breed of Irish men.

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