Loreena McKennitt - The Highwayman

Music: Loreena McKennitt

lyrics: Alfred Noyes

abridged by Loreena McKennitt

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

And the highwayman came riding,

Riding, riding,

The highwayman came riding,

up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead

a bunch of lace at his chin,

A coat of claret velvet

and breeches of brown doe-skin

They fitted with never a wrinkle

his boots were up to the thigh!

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,

His pistol butts a-twinkle,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle

under the jewelled sky.

And over the cobbles he clattered

and clashed in the dark innyard

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 shall 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 upright in the stirrups

he scarce could reach her hand

But she loosened her hair i' the casement!

His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume

came tumbling over his breast;

And he kissed it's waves in the moonlight,

(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight

and galloped away to the west.

He did not come at the dawning;

he did not come at noon,

And out of the tawny sunset,

before the rise o' the moon,

When the road was a gypsy's ribbon,

looping the purple moor,

A red-coat troop came marching,

Marching, marching

King George's men came marching,

up to the old inn-door.

They 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

and hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through the casement,

The road that he would ride.

They 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!

She writhed her hands till 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 one finger touched it!

The trigger at least was hers!

Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it?

The horse-hoofs were ringing clear

Tlot-tlot, in the distance!

Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight,

over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding,

Riding, riding!

The red-coats looked to their priming!

She stood up straight and still!

Tlot in the frosty silence!

Tlot in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer!

Her face was like a light!

Her eyes grew wide for a moment!

She drew one 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 death.

He turned; he spurred to the west;

he did not know she stood

bowed, with her head o'er the 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 there.

And 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 i' the golden noon;

wine-red was 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 the bunch of lace at his throat.

Still of 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

END