Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot in the echoing night! 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 who 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 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 his spurs in 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 cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard; And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred; He whistles 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. -- - Alfred Noyes PLANTATION PLAY-SONG Hit's agittin' mighty late, w'en de guinny-hins squall, Stop yo' humpin' up yo' sho'lders Dat'll never do! Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! Hit takes a heap er scrougin' Fer ter git you thoo Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! Ef you niggers don't watch, you'll sing anudder chune, Is a settin' in de grape-vine a watchin' fer de moon. Des holler - Oh, shoo! Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! Oh, swing dat yaller gal! Do, boys, do! Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! Oh, tu'n me loose! Lemme 'lone! Go way, now! Can't you jump inter de middle en make yo' gal a bow? A follerin' up Sue; Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! De boys ain't a gwine W'en you cry boo hoo Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo! Joel Chandler Harris REVIVAL HYMN Oh, whar shill we go w'en de great day comes, Wid de blowin' er de trumpits en de bangin' er de drums? How many po' sinners'll be kotched out late En fine no latch ter de golden gate? No use fer ter wait twel ter-morrer! W'en de nashuns er de erf is a stan'in all aroun', Yo better come now ef you comin' Ole Satun is loose en a bummin' De song er salvashun is a mighty sweet song, En right dar's de place whar de sinners oughter hide! Oh, you nee'nter be a stoppin' en a lookin'; De time is right now, en dish yer's de place No use fer ter wait twel ter-morrer, De sun musn't set on yo' sorrer Joel Chandler Harris WHEN MALINDY SINGS G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy- What's de use to keep on tryin'? You ain't got de nachel o'gans Fu' to make de soun' come right, You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's Fu' to make it sweet an' light. Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy, An' I'm tellin' you fu' true, When hit comes to raal right singin', 'T ain't no easy thing to do. Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah, But fu' real melojous music, Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings, Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy? |