Tower and Town, December 2019

  (view the full edition)

The Highwayman

He’d a three-cornered hat on his head;
A bag of wild hare skin and a robe of ruby-red velvet;
A straggly beard upon his chin.
The trees were like old witches hair, the forest was dark and dim,
But on he rode, with a determined trot – his horse’s hooves clopped.
He rode with the determined trot, under the murky sky.

As a fiery dawn broke,
The path opening grew nearer,
The Highwayman’s trot became slower
As the path became clearer.
Suddenly, the King’s men jumped out – they knew he was going to rob;
But the Highwayman’s crimson cloak flew back,
He was galloping-galloping-galloping into the honey-tinted sky.

Down the muddy banks, he rode
He knew he was done for,
He drowned himself in the river filled with lethal nails and planks of splintered wood.
And he drowned himself in the sunlight: the caramel-tinted rays of sunlight
He drowned himself in the sunlight,
All in his love for Bess.

Elliott