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; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest. - Robert W. Service
17. We live on this earth till we die one dayThough we crave to live, death doth make its swayNone can stop it, thou nor I from its wayNor tears of kith and kin keeps it away - Manuel Newton-Management Consultant and Poet MA M.Com LLB ICWA FIBAM FIMM etc