The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
and the road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
when a highwayman came riding- riding, riding
yes, the highwayman came riding up to the old inn door

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the darkened yard
he tapped with his whip on the window but all was locked and barred
so 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 bonnie sweetheart, for 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 or harry me thru the day
O then look for me by moonlight- watch for me by moonlight
and i'll come to thee by moonlight tho Hell should bar the way"

But he did not come at the dawning, he did not come at the noon
and out of the tawny sunset before the rise of the moon
when the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor
then a red coat troop came marching- marching, marching
King George's men came marching up to the old inn door

And they bound the landlord's daughter with many a snickering jest
and they bound the musket beside her with the barrel beneath her breast
"keep good watch" they said, and they kissed her and she heard the dead man say
"look for me by moonlight- watch for me by moonlight
and i'll come to thee by moonlight tho Hell should bar the way"

"Look for me by moonlight"- hoofbeats ringing clear
"watch for me by moonlight"- were they deaf that they did not hear?
for he rode on the gypsy highway, she breathed one final breath
then her finger moved in the moonlight- a musket shattered the moonlight
and it shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death

He turned, he spurred on to the west, for he did not know who stood
out with the black hair flowing down, drenched in her own red blood
no, not 'til the dawn had he heard it and 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

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 his spurs in the golden noon, wine red 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 a bunch of lace at his throat

And still, on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees
the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
and the road is a ribbon of moonlight, looping the purple moor
then a highwayman comes riding- riding, riding
yes, the highwayman comes riding up to the old inn door