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The Highwayman

アーティスト：Loreena McKennitt  アルバム：The Book of Secrets 

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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 glaring 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 chill and a twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky. Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark of night, 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 its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet 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 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



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