He'd a French red beret, covering up his left eye.
A pocket full of cash, filled up to the rim.
His crimson, red cloak was shining and gleaming in the yellow sun.
He rode with a gallop across the winding path.
His wooden rifle alight!
His emerald necklace, a twinkle under the starry sky.
Over the charcoal path, he galloped and swerved in the jet-black graveyard.
He thumped his pale hand on the caramel wood door, but all was strongly locked and impossible to enter.
He looked, and who did he see standing there..... but the spooky vicar's walnut-eyed son.
Leo, the vicar's son, combing his tawny brown hair.
Thump-Thump-Thump!
Had they heard it?
The horse hooves clopping clear, thump-thump-thump-thump in the distance!
Were they deaf? They did not hear.
Down the trail of the pearl-white mountain.
The Highwayman came sprinting, sprinting, sprinting!
In his basil green coat, he looked towards the door.
Leo stood up tall and strong.
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