Well, I've been doing some more work on this song, which generally happens when I'm learning to sing it. It was a little long. So I cut out the equivalent of a verse, and some of those deleted line pairs won't be missed. Then I've added in a chorus, using the first two lines from the original last verse, which I think helps round it out. Here's what it looks like now (copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up chords):

Poem by Cicely Fox Smith
From Sailor Town: Sea Songs and Ballads, © 1919, pp. 120-122.
Adapted by Charlie Ipcar 3/23/08
Key: C (7/F)

The Traveller-2

G---C-----------------------G------------------------D--------------------G
I've loops o' string in the place o' buttons, I've mostly holes for a shirt;
----C-------------------------G-------------------D---------------------G
My boots are bust an' my hat's a goner, I'm gritty with dust an' dirt;
---------D-------------------G------------------------C----------------G
An' I'm sittin' here on this wharf a-watchin' the China ships go forth,
---------C----------------G---------------------------D---------------------------G
An' the little black tugs come in a-glidin' with timber booms from the North.
D----------------------G---------------C---------------------G
Sittin' and seein' the broad Pacific break at my feet in foam –
C-----------------------------G----------------D-----------------------G
Me that was born with a taste for travel, miles an' miles from home.

Chorus:

G-------D---------------------G------------------C---------------------G
Well, I ain't got folks an' I ain't got money, ain't got nothing at all,
-------C------------------------G-------------------D----------------G
But a queer old thirst that keeps me movin', movin' on till I fall.

Now they sent me away when I was a nipper to the Board School in the slums,
An' some of them kids was good at spellin', some at figurin' sums;
An' whether I went or whether I didn't, they learned me nothing at all,
For I'd be watchin' the flies a-walkin' all over the maps on the wall,
Strollin' over the lakes an' mountains, over the plains an' sea, –
As if they was born with a taste for travel – just the same as me! (CHO)

If I'd been born a rich man's son with lots o' money to burn,
It wouldn't ha' gone for marble mansions an' statues at every turn;
I'd be sailin' in rakish yachts or rolling in plush Pullman cars, –
I've seen 'em yachts a-lyin' at anchor, night-time under the stars;
I'd ha' paid my fare where I've beat my way (but I couldn't ha' liked it more!),
Me that was born with a taste for travel – the same if you're rich or poor. (CHO)

But I've beat the ties an' rode the bumpers from sea to shinin' sea,
An' I've work'd like a Turk down in the stokehold, dined off salt-horse an' tea;
An' many a time I've been short o' shelter an' many a time o' grub,
But I got away from the rows o' houses, the streets, an' the corner pub –
So here by the side of a sea that's shinin' under a sky like flame,
Me that was born with a taste for travel, need no other claim. (CHO)

Maybe I'll paste this song into one of the current Utah Philips threads; I can certainly hear him singing this song in my head.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble