There’s a race of men that don’t fit in
A race that can’t sit still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
—Robert Service, Poet of the Yukon from “The Men that Don’t Fit In”
