The Highwayman

Where Tim the Ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,

“One Kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

 

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him -
with her death.

When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his
throat.

Our Highwaywoman