Men laugh at the gate, they bilk the tolls,
Or stop and pay like honest souls.
I’m on the road, I’m on the road,
I’m never so blithe as when abroad,
With the hills above, and the vales below,
And merry wheresoever I go,
If the opposition appears in sight
What matters—we’ll soon make that all right.
I love—oh! how I love to ride,
With a smiling damsel by my side,