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The Highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness

Among the gusty trees

The moon was a ghostly galleon

Tossed upon the cloudy seas

The road was a ribbon of moonlight

Over the purple moor

When the highwayman came riding

Riding, riding,

The highwayman came riding

Up to the old inn doorHe'd a french cocked hat at his forehead

A bunch of lace at his chin

A coat of claret velvet

And breeches of brown doe-skin

They fitted with nary a wrinkle

His boots were up to the thigh

And he rode with a jeweled twinkle

His pistol butts a-twinkle

His rapier hilt a-twinkle

Under the jeweled skyAnd over cobbles he clattered

And clashed in the dark inn-yard

And he tapped with his whip on the shutters

But all was locked and barred

He whistled a tune to the window

And who should be waiting there

But the landlord's black-eyed daughter

Bess, the landlord's daughter

Plaiting a dark red love knot

Into her long black hair"One kiss my bonny sweetheart

I'm after a prize tonight

But I should be back with the yellow gold

Before the morning light

Yet if they press me sharply

And harry me through the day

Then look for me by the moonlight

Watch for me by the moonlight

I'll come to thee by the moonlight

Though hell should bar the way."He rose up right in the stirrups

He scarce could reach her hand

But she loosened her hair in the casement

His face burned like a brand

As a black cascade of perfume

Came tumbling over his breast

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight

Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight

He tugged at his rein in the moonlight

And galloped away to the westHe did not come at the dawning

He did not come at noon

And out of the tawny sunset

Before the rise of the moon

When the road was a gypsy's ribbon

Looping the purple moor

A redcoat troop came marching

Marching, marching

King George's men came marching

Up to the old inn doorThey said no word to the landlord

They drank his ale instead

But they gagged his daughter and bound her

To the foot of her narrow bed

Two of them knelt at the casement

With muskets at their side

There was death at every window

Hell at one dark window

For Bess could see through the casement

The road that he would rideThey had tied her up to attention

With many a sniggering jest

They had bound a musket beside her

With the barrel beneath her breast

"Now keep good watch" and they kissed her

She heard the dead man say

"Look for me by the moonlight

Watch for me by the moonlight

I'll come to thee by the moonlight

Though hell should bar the way."She twisted her hands behind her

But all the knots held good!

But she writhed her hands 'til her fingers

Were wet with sweat or blood

They stretched and strained in the darkness

And the hours crawled by like years

Till now on the stroke of midnight

Cold on the stroke of midnight

The tip of her finger touched it

The trigger at least was hersTot-a-lot, tot-a-lot had they heard it?

The horse's hooves rang clear

Tot-a-lot, tot-a-lot in the distance

Were they deaf they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight

Over the brow of the hill

The highwayman came riding

Riding, riding

The redcoats looked to their priming

She stood up straight and stillTot-a-lot in the frosty silence

Tot-a-lot in the echoing night

Nearer he came and nearer

Her face was like a light

Her eyes grew wide for a moment

She drew a last deep breath

Then her finger moved in the moonlight

Her musket shattered the moonlight

Shattered her breast in the moonlight

And warned him with her deathHe turned, he spurred to the west

He did not know she stood

Bowed with her head o'er musket

Drenched with her own red blood

Not till the dawn he heard it

His face grew grey to hear

How Bess the landlord's daughter

The landlord's black-eyed daughter

Had watched for her love in the moonlight

And died in the darkness thereAnd back he spurred like a madman

Shrieking a curse to the sky!

With the white road smoking behind him

And his rapier brandished high!

Blood-red were the spurs in the golden noon

Wine-red was his velvet coat

When they shot him down in the highway

Down like a dog on the highway

And he lay in his blood in the highway

With a bunch of lace at his throatStill on a winter's night they say

When the wind is in the trees

When the moon is a ghostly galleon

Tossed upon the cloudy seas

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight

Over the purple moor

A highwayman comes riding

Riding, riding,

A highwayman comes riding

Up to the old inn door

Songwriters

PHIL OCHS, ALFRED NOYESPublished by

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