Classic Poem

As I was going along the way,
I saw the tracks where a Gipsy lay —
Of a Gipsy fellow whom I did know,
And the name of the man was Petulengro.

And so I went on the road a bit,
Till I came to the fire where I saw him sit;
And he said to me, " Sarishan? " — " How do you do? "
For a real Rom was Petulengro.

" What luck for the day? " I asked, and he
Said, " Wery bad luck, " again to me;
" It's wery bad luck, that never will cease,
And all along o' these here police.

" If I pulls a bit of a stick from a hedge,
There's a bobby a bobbin' along its edge;
An' it's luck if I ain't in prison a piece,
An' all along o' that 'ere police.

" When I'm sound asleep in our little camp,
The Pigs come down an' they make us tramp;
They roots me out, and I gets no peace;
For it's allers " Move on!" with them 'ere police.

" If my missus gets in a house, you know,
To tell a bit of a fortin' or so,
They scares her almost to her de-cease,
For they're nat'ral devils, is them police.

" I heard a fellow preachin' to me,
As this is the land o' liberty:
But I tells him my liberty is peace;
An' there's none o' that there, where you has police.

" Oh, I've had enough o' this land, I say,
With its lords and parsons an' sitch as they;
An' it's over the water I goes like geese,
To a land where there isn't no police.

" There you can tell a fortin' or so;
There you can clear out the things, you know;
There you are free as the blowin' breeze: —
Hespesherly from them vile police.

" The 'Merican land, I thinks, mayhap,
Is just the spot for a Rommany chap;
For from all I hears, there they lives at peace,
An' the people don't care for no police.