The Freebooter,

No door has my house, No house has my door; And in and out ever I carry my store. No grate has my kitchen, No kitchen my grate; Yet roasts it and boils it Both early and late. My bed has no trestles, My trestles no bed; Yet merrier moments No mortal e'er led. My cellar is lofty, My barn is full deep, From top to the bottom,— There lie I and sleep. And soon as I waken, All moves on its race; My place has no fixture, My fixture no place.