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.