Phil Ochs Miscellaneous The Highwayman The wind was a torn dove darkness 'mong the gusty trees the moon was a ghostly gallion, tossed upon cloudy seas and the road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor And the highwayman came riding, Riding, riding yes the highwayman came riding up to the old Inn door Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the darkened yard and he tapped with his whip on the window but all was locked and barred so he whistled a tune to the window, Who should be waiting there, But the landlords black-eyed daughter Bess the landlords daughter braiding a dark red love knot into her long black hair one kiss my bonny sweetheart for I'm after prize, tonight but I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light yet if they press me sharply and harry me through they day oh, then, look for me by moonlight watch for me by moonlight and I'll come to thee by moonlight though hell should bar the way He did not come at the dawning, no, he did not come at the 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 Oh, a Redcoat troop came marching, marching marching King George's men came marching up to the old Inn door And they bound the landlords daughter with many a sniggering jest and they bound the musket beside her with the barrel beneath her breast Now, keep good watch And they kissed her she heard the dead man say, "oh, look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight, and I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way" "look for me by moonlight" Hoofbeats ringing clear "watch for me by moonlight" were they deaf, that they did not hear? for he rode on the gypsy highway She breathed one final breath then her finger moved in the moonlight her musket shattered the moonlight and it shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him, with her death Oh, he turned, he spurred on to the west He did not know who stood out with her black hair a'flowin' down drenched with her own red blood, No, not till the dawn had he heard it, and his face grew gray to hear how Bess, the Landlords daughter, the Landlords black eyed daughter had watched for her love in the moonlight and died in the darkness there Back he spurred, like a madman shrieking a curse to the sky, with a white road smoking behind him, and his rapier brandished high bloodred were his spurs in the golden moon wine red his velvet coat 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 a bonshot lace at his throat And still, of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees and the moon is a ghostly Gallion tossed upon cloudy seas, when the road is a ribbon of moonlight, looping the purple moor Oh, the highwayman comes riding, Riding, riding, yes, the highwayman comes riding up to the old Inn door |
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