A Daring Game of High Toby

A DARING GAME OF HIGH TOBY

(the enchantment of the west country highwayman)

Where ere a junction of the ways,

Where merge a group of lanes;

A lonely soul, this game he plays,

To seek ill gotten gains.

His handguns idling at his side

He'll avail them by and by;

Nestling 'neath his cloak to hide

And keep his powder dry.

He contemplates his daunting task,

A coach is almost due;

He discretely now amends his mask

To hide his face from view.

His mount is growing restless she,

Not caring for to stand;

He checks her with the reins to see

Her steady in his hand.

He gulps a quaff of brandy,

He's set to spring his trap;

Bedecked as like a dandy,

A feather in his cap.

He halts a coach and bears his arms

He cries "Stand and deliver!"

The gentlemen hold up their palms,

The ladies stand and shiver.

He brings his flintlocks to the aim

And cocks each loaded pistol;

High toby is his daring game

Upon the road to Bristol.

He passes round his feathered hat

And treats them all like fools;

He takes his pick of this and that

And steals their gold and jewels.

As evening falls he takes his pleasure

In a tavern in the town;

Counting out his plundered treasure,

Swilling stout ale down.

But soon the law takes up with him

And remands him in his cell;

Standing trial, his chances slim,

He knows he's bound for hell.

The judge, no mercy does he show,

Peering o'er his brow;

Sentencing the bold outlaw....

So who is foolish now?

Though if you venture out this day

Then here's a scene you'll see;

A highwayman along the way....

Hanging from a tree.

                    ASJ