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Caverns, caves, and mystery
Along the Cornish coast
Pungent smell of misery
Did I see smugglers ghost?

Black Jack guarded his domain
Cutlass drawn and fighting stance
Willing to inflict bloody pain, guarding
Brandy wine from far off France.

The barrels roll in on stormy ocean
Heaved on shoulders, stashed in cave
Like zombies working, no emotion 
Dead they lie in unmarked grave.

Excise-men men have been sighted
Black Jack urges, language profane
It seems the night has been blighted
Signal lit, all aflame.

Pandemonium breaking out
One by one roughly chained
Excise men enjoyed a rout 
Victory is now proclaimed.

Ah! but wait, where is Black Jack?
He's paddling like crazy out to sea
The Hawk is waiting for its captain
He's down but not out, wait and see.

 Image
by
Matyze
Pixabay



 I thought you might like to read this small piece written by
Rudyard Kipling
1865-1936
"The Smugglers Song"
If you wake at midnight and hear a horse’s feet
Don't go drawing back the blinds, or looking in the street
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie
Watch the wall my darling when the gentlemen go by.
Chorus:
Five and twenty ponies trotting through the dark
Brandy for the parson, baccy for the clerk
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy
And watch the wall my darling, while the gentlemen go by.

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