The Travelling Traveller

A great bag on his back,
And a stick in his hand,
The traveller travels wherever he can.
Wandering, stumbling here and there.
He travels the landscape without a care.

He’s dirty and smelly,
And infested with lice!
A travelling traveller rarely stops for the night.
He’s wandering, stumbling here and there.
He travels the landscape without a care.

A travelling traveller has no time to talk,
So we’ll leave him now to carry on his great walk.

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