The moon was a ghostly galleon
Afloat in the cloudy sea,
The road a ribbon of silver light,
Winding o'er the purple lea.
And as the highwayman came riding,
Riding on his trusty steed,
His hat was French, his coat was claret,
And his boots were brown doe-skin indeed.
He rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His weapons glinting in the night,
A pistol in each hand,
And a rapier at his side shining bright.
He clattered into the inn-yard,
The sound echoing in the night,
And he tapped upon the shutters,
But all was barred and bolted tight.
He whistled a tune to the window,
And there waiting, he did see,
The landlord's daughter, black-eyed Bess,
Plaiting her hair so dark and free.
With a love-knot in her tresses,
She looked on the highwayman bold,
And he knew that he must have her,
For her beauty was worth more than gold.
So he wooed her with words of passion,
And she fell under his spell,
And together they rode off into the night,
Leaving behind the inn and its bell.
The moon was a ghostly galleon,
But the highwayman rode free,
With his love by his side,
As happy as happy could be.
by Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S POETRY
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