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


Written by Pecker Dunne; a traveller from Wexford who was a very accomplished banjo player, fiddler and balladeer.

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