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—riding
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door
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—riding
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door