Poetry in Music / Top-tier Lyrics
in Music ·
Honestly? One of my absolute favorite vocalists. A soprano with massive talent. Like a modern-day bard...
The lyrics are actually a slightly shortened poem called The Highwayman by the American writer Alfred Noyes (1880-1958).
Loreena McKennitt - The Highwayman - The Book of Secrets (1997)
Part One:
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.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, 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 hilts a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
And over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
If they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me be the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)
He tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
Part Two:
He did not come at the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of 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.
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
Hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say-
'Look for me by the moonlight;
Watch for me by the moonlight;
I’ll make it there by moonlight, even if I have to fight my way through hell itself!
She wrenched her hands behind her back, but those knots weren't budging one bit.
She kept wringing her hands until they were soaked—either from sweat or blood. I don't know. It was intense.
They were just tossing and turning in the dark. Every hour felt like a lifetime. It was brutal.
Up until this very second, right at the stroke of midnight...
Midnight hit. Cold. Just freezing.
Just a fingertip. That’s all it took. She had her hand on the trigger. At least that part was true.
Just a fingertip brushed against it. That was it. No more effort. She gave up on the rest.
She stood up straight, eyes locked forward, the muzzle tucked tight against her chest.
She wouldn't gamble with their hearing. She wouldn't try all over again.
The road stretches out under the moonlight. Just wide open. Everything laid bare.
Empty and exposed under the moonlight.
Under the moonlight, you could practically feel it—her heart racing, pulsing in sync with everything she felt for him.
Did you hear that? That rhythmic thudding? Like heavy hooves hitting the pavement—clear as a bell. Just steady, pounding strikes.
Clop-clop, clop-clop. I can hear them coming from a mile away. Are people really that oblivious? Did they not hear that?
Under the moonlight, tracing the ridge of the hill.
The highwayman came riding,
Out on the ride! Just riding.
The infantry prepped for action. She rose, standing tall and motionless.
The sound of hoofbeats... just rhythmic thuds cutting through the freezing silence. "Clop-clop," echoing out into the dark night.
He drew closer. And closer still. Her face... it was like a beacon.
Her eyes went wide for a second. She took one last, deep breath.
Then her hand twitched under the moonlight.
Her musket cut right through the moonlight.
She broke his heart under the moonlight and left him with nothing but a warning from beyond the grave.
He spun around. Spurred his horse toward the West. Didn't realize she was standing right there.
She was slumped forward, head resting right against the rifle, soaked through in her own blood.
He didn't hear it until daybreak. By then, his face had gone pale.
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,...
The landlord's daughter has a black eye.
Waited under the moonlight just hoping she'd show up. Instead, I ended up dying in the dark. Just... nothing.
Then he was off—galloping like a man possessed, screaming a curse at the heavens.
White asphalt steaming behind him. Rapier held high. Just like that.
His spurs glowed blood-red under the midday sun. His velvet coat? A deep, wine-red.
When they took him out right there on the interstate,
Wiped out on the interstate. Just completely leveled.
He was just lying there in his own blood right in the middle of the highway, that little bit of lace still tangled around his neck.
They say it happens on a still winter's night. Just the sound of the wind moving through the trees. That's it.
The moon looks like a ghostly galleon, just tossing around on these heavy, cloudy seas.
The road stretches out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, cutting right through the dark purple moors. Just beautiful. Really.
A highwayman comes riding. On horseback. Fast. Looking for trouble on the open road. Just like those old stories. But this feels different. Realer. A little scary, honestly. Still.
Just riding. Out on the road. Again.
A bandit pulls up right to the front door.
Clattering over the cobblestones. Clanging through the dark courtyard. Just him.
He raps against the window shutters with his whip, but everything’s bolted shut. No way in.
He whistles a little tune toward the window, and wouldn't you know it—there they are.
But then there’s the landlord’s daughter. She’s got this black eye. Just... sitting there. Hard to look at. Tough situation.
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Braiding a deep crimson love-knot right into her long, dark hair.
And here’s something original from me: Loreena McKennitt - The Mystic's Dream - The Mask and Mirror (1994).
A hazy dream on a restless American night.
Suspended there, right against the crescent moon.
A silent melody under an eternal glow.
Singing at the break of day.
The birds are taking off. Calling out from over there.
Where the heart moves the stones.
That’s where my heart truly belongs.
Everything I do, I do it all for you.
A painting hanging against an ivy wall.
Tucked away in the deep green moss.
A look says it all. A silent pact. Trust established.
And then it just pulls me right out of it. Far away.
Deep in the desert at twilight. Just out there. Somewhere in the vastness. It hits you differently when the sun goes down. Quiet. Too quiet? Maybe. But that’s where it happens. In those moments. Out in the middle of nowhere.
The sand just melts away, dissolving into pools across the sky.
When night falls and everything turns deep red.
Your lights... they’re calling. Calling me back home.
So, this is where I pay my respects.
Caught in the dead of night. Stillness everywhere. It just hits you.
And now it feels like... like you're finally moving.
Every single breath. Just... full. Every one of them.
So, I guess it’s time to pay my respects.
Caught in that heavy, midnight silence.
Distance doesn't even matter anymore
It's all just for you
Like a hazy dream under a dark sky
Clinging to the moon's edge
A silent melody in an eternal glow
Echoing through the break of day
Birds are taking flight over there
In that place where passion moves mountains
That's exactly where I'm aching to be
Everything, just for you.