The Highwayman

A dark bleak evening, the cold wind blew
clutching the land in its icy claws
The highwayman froze on his writhing mount
teeth chattering in his rigid jaws

Twas a night for stealing, for ugly deeds
And there was a need for gold
He heard the sound of a coach approaching
The reins of his horse he did hold

He pulled himself to the path of the coach
Doing dangerous deeds, defying death
“Who goes there” called the coachman loud
“You money or your life” from the highwayman’s breath

The coach stopped on the road, all was silent
like the grave, there was no sound in the air
“Come out you travellers and give me your wealth
Or I will take all that you can bear”

And then a motion, the highwayman turned
He saw a sword and then he fled
A soldier of the King chased the thief
And then he took the highwayman’s head

On dark cold nights on the country road
You can hear the clippity clop of the horse
A headless highwayman rides on its way
The path of crime has taken its course