Christy Moore/Wally Page
My name is Johnny Connors, I am a travelling man
My people have been travelling since time it first began
With my horse and covered wagon
And my family by my side
Grazing the long acre, I travelled far and wide
I met Bridie Maughan my sweet wife
On a fair day in Rathkeale
She was the finest travelling girl that ever wore a shawl.
We worked the tin around Galway
On up to Ballinasloe
For a traveller with a horse to sell
It was the place to go
We sold the old linoleum, swapped carpets for old pine
But as the years passed on, the travelling life
Got harder all the time.
Where have all the halting places gone
All them friendly doors
Where we’d haul spring water from the well
And sell paper flowers
Now its guards and jailers and JCB’s
To roll big boulders in
Temporary dwellings are prohibited
Innocent little travelling children
Lost out on them streets
Sons and daughters on the wine and lying ’round me feet
As they try to dull the hurt and pain
The rejection that’s imposed
Travellers are not wanted here
But there’s no place left to go.
My name is Johnny Connors
I am a travelling man
I’ve taken everything that’s been thrown at me,
Now I’m going to take a stand.