Friday, 11 January 2008

The highway man

He diden't come at dawning;he woulden't come at noon;And out o' the tawny sunset,before the round moon would rise,When the road was a really gipsy ribben,looping the dark purple moor Red-coat came striding-striding-striding king George's men came striding up to the old old inn-door.Not even a single word to the rode landlord ,every single troop drank his beer instead,They gagged his daughter and put her on the foot of her narrow bed;Two troops knelt at Bess'es casement with their muskets at their side!There was really death at every single window;At hell at one really dark window;For Bess could really see,through the casement that she saw,The road that the Highway man would take.

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