“They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
         Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!”

The highwayman- he was coming, she knew within her heart.
So all through after noon the landlord’s daughter writhed the rope apart!
King George’s men were dancing, liquor seeping from their breath;
So she leapt out the shuttered window,

         The old-inn’s moon-lit window;

She leapt through the open window, and ran to stop her lover’s death.

The wind was a torrent of blue sky among the gusty trees,
And the moon, that ghostly galleon, had drowned beneath the seas.
The road was a ribbon of sunlight, entwining the golden moor;
And the landlord’s daughter came running-
         Running, running-
The landlord’s fearless daughter came running across the shore.

Along the road she sought: a coat of wine, a throat of lace;
And in time she met the tardy robber, a lustrous grin upon her face.
He hoisted her upon his steed as she relayed her harrowing plight,
And the highwayman went riding-
         Riding, riding-
The highwayman and woman went riding bathed in day-light.

The landlord’s red-lipped daughter and her dear highwayman,
Vanished on the ribbon road, and were never seen or heard again.
But what happened to George’s wicked men? Tim the ostler will atest:
They were shot like dogs in the moonlight;
         Down went the dogs in the moonlight;
They died like dogs in the moonlight, by the musket they’d bound beneath her breast.