It was the sound hoofbeats, Hoofbeats on the cobbled street Ringing ever louder That made the bold Rapaire retreat. He'd heard the deaths of bandits Of bandits drawn and quartered Often glorified in song ANd he nearly lost his water. He put up his sword and pistol An old pistol,black and long And he headed for the basement stairs And dragged his Mom along. They quailed down in that basement The moldy basement, dank and cold Flinching from those hoofbeats And feeling frail, and old. So ends the glorious story Highwayman's story, rich with lies Hiding in a dingy basement From hoofbeats which never quite go by.
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