The wind was a torrent of darkness
Among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon
Tossed upon 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 inndoor
He'd a french cocked hat on his forehead
A bunch of lace at his chin
A coat of the 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
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