Snap // Melody // (Alizé) (
dressedinmelody) wrote in
dramadramaduck2008-10-26 01:00 am
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[voice post]
We might not have Halloween on my world, but ghost stories are part of it, right?
[with guitar for accompanyment]
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the ghastly trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the 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 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 jewelled sky
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
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by 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 black waves in the moonlight!)
The he tugged at his rein in the moonlight,
And galloped away to the west
He did not come at 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
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
And they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the 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 come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance!
Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment!
She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight, and warned him with her death!
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there
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 the 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 the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door...
((OOC: Song can be found onsongerize.com seeqpod.com~))
[with guitar for accompanyment]
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the ghastly trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the 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 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 jewelled sky
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
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by 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 black waves in the moonlight!)
The he tugged at his rein in the moonlight,
And galloped away to the west
He did not come at 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
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
And they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the 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 come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance!
Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment!
She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight, and warned him with her death!
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there
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 the 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 the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door...
((OOC: Song can be found on
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[voice post with harp]
a hey ho bonny o
And he had daughters one, two, three
The swans swim so bonny o
These daughters they walked by the river's brim
a hey ho bonny o
The eldest pushed the youngest in
The swans swim so bonny o
Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand
with a hey ho a bonny o
And I will give you house and land
the swans swim so bonny o
I'll give you neither hand nor glove
with a hey ho a bonny o
Unless you give me your own true love
the swans swim so bonny o
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Until she came to a miller's dam
the swans swim so bonny o
The miller's daughter, dressed in red
with a hey ho and a bonny o
She went for some water to make some bread
the swans swim so bonny o
Oh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan
with a hey ho and a bonny o
It's very like a gentle woman
the swans swim so bonny o
They placed her on the bank to dry
with a hey ho and a bonny o
There came a harper passing by
the swans swim so bonny o
He made harp pins of her fingers fair
with a hey ho and a bonny o
He made harp strings of her golden hair
the swans swim so bonny o
He made a harp of her breast bone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play alone
the swans swim so bonny o
He brought it to her father's hall
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And there was the court, assembled all
the swans swim so bonny o
He laid the harp upon a stone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play lone
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my father the King
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And yonder sits my mother the Queen
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my brother Hugh
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And by him William, sweet and true
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my false sister, Anne
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Who drowned me for the sake of a man
the swans swim so bonny o
Re: [voice post with harp]
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...Can you sing that one too?
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Actually, hang on a sec. I think I have an idea.
((Hee, no worries, you gave
Alizeme an idea! Although unfortunately it's an old opera and I saw it performed live, so the music doesn't seem to exist anywhere on the internet.))no subject
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((Yup! The best I can find are music clips in Czech, unfortunately. =_= I saw this performance.))
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Mind singing that one too?
[more voice post!]
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And never saw the jail
He filled her up with contraband
Perfume, smokes and rum
He hoped the fog was thick enough
To make another run
You can still see the sight
On a winter's night
Of his wake in the light of the moon
If the wind turns right
If you don't take fright
You can smell that French perfume
But the Mountie boat was waiting
As he crawled near Mortier Bay
And when they hit the spotlight
It was like the light of day
He didn't bring her head round
When they told him to heave to
He opened up the engines
And he ran for Spanish Room
You can still see the sight
On a winter's night
Of his wake in the light of the moon
If the wind turns right
If you don't take fright
You can smell that French perfume
They said they heard him laughing
With the Mounties closing in
His engines screaming murder
And his face set in a grin
The seagulls started lifting
Like an angry banshee choir
He hit the rocks at 50 clicks
And the sky lit up with fire
It's of of a bold young smuggler
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And he never saw the jail
And when it's cold and foggy
On the rocks near Spanish Room
They say you hear him laughing
And you smell that French perfume
You can still see the sight
On a winter's night
Of his wake in the light of the moon
If the wind turns right
If you don't take fright
You can smell that French perfume
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