Poem dictated while driving number four

I think I was born to wander,
Like nomadic days of old;
Always something over yonder,
Hills of green and fields of gold

I guess I was born to ramble
Through the countryside:
Leaf and branch and bush and bramble,
Traveling both far and wide

Give me gas and give me freedom,
Let me go my way;
I won’t join ’em and won’t beat ’em
I just want to drive all day
Head ’em up, and head away

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