[dave51]

There is actually a rather old poem titled " The Highwayman". I'm thinking the first two verses kind of sum up our Highwayman.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
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
The Highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

(this part kills me)
He'd a French cocked hat on his forhead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet and breeches of brown doe skin,
They fitted with never a wrinkle, his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, his pistol butts a'twinkle,
His rapier hilt a'twinkle, under the jeweled sky.\

Now folks, somebody that dresses like that and all that twinkling going on, needs our sympathy. I think he probably still lives with his Mom and she dresses him. If we dressed like that we would, more than likely, be twinkling all over the place.

 

[James]

Maybe the guy in this photo started riding a Harley!

 

[twincamzz]

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.... Sheesh !! This guy is too much !!

twincamzz

 

[DJW]

all that twinkling going on, .... be twinkling all over the place.

Ouch that's harsh Dave51. In the interest of fairness.. here is another quote from the 1903 Alfred Noyes poem the Highway Man...

"...He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

....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 i' the golden noon;
wine-red was 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."

Its actually an cool horror story, sort of a cross between Romeo and Juliet and Sleepy Hollow. If you got a few minutes to blow here is the whole poem.

 

[GROUCHO]

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

[dave51]

DJW...I don't want to be fair. I want him out in the open so we can all play with him. The Highwayman...what a punk.

 

[DJW]

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

yeah well, it was a hundred years ago groucho.

Maybe you're just reading it the wrong way. Try it again with the sound of P'diddy scratchin up some vinyl record in the background, a mad ass thumpin' bass drum and somebody spittin' "pbbbt..pbbbt..pbbbt" into a microphone in the background...

...nahhh, never mind.