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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required This piece was inspired, many years ago, by the magnificent poem - "The Highwayman" - ‘Neath an ivory moon in a cobalt sky, on a clear and silky night, On ebon steed, with pistol drawn, I lay in the moon’s warm light. ‘Tis the route of the Baron’s favor that I silently sit aside, And the very road where, years ago, my father’d laid and died. For a “highwayman” the fate is plain…their run is seldom long. But tonight a son avenges for a far much greater wrong. As a boy I’d known the pauper’s life, and knew of my father’s ways, But felt no shame that I bore his name, though hard were my childhood days. A dozen years have come and gone, still -- victim of my youth -- I find no arms to welcome me ‘round those who know the truth. I well recall the night when word would come he’d met his fate. My young eyes filled with bitter tears, my heart…relentless hate. To most I am “the robber’s son.” They scorn me: “Devil’s seed.” But here is why tonight I lie in wait on ebon steed. On Friday last, as I sat drinking ale, alone and tired, The one and only son this murdered highwayman had sired Once again would know the hate with which his heart had burned, As from the Baron’s coachman now, a truth, at last, was learned. I listened to his driver as he boasted of his past. The tale that most intrigued me was the one he’d saved for last. It told of how the Baron, many years ago, one night, Had shot and killed a highwayman…beneath the moon’s warm light. He told of how the Baron, in a play to save his life, Had thrown himself behind the trembling figure of his wife. The highwayman refused to fire, and when he turned and fled, The Baron shot him in the back and killed the robber dead. To this they raised their glasses high, “Here, here.” I heard them say. But for my father’s chivalry…he might still live today. Well, now you know the reason why I wait beneath this moon And plot to kill the coward who will pass before me soon. In but another moment, there he was, as in the glow Of softly shining lanterns rode the victim I would know, For winding toward his penance was the man I meant to kill. And as the carriage came to where the steed and I stood still, I bolted from the darkness -- cocked revolver in my hand -- And stood beside the carriage door that bore the Baron’s brand. Now brandishing my pistol, I cried, “Driver, sit as stone.” Then glaring at the Baron, as he sat there, all alone… “Sir, tonight, with all your gold, your life you cannot buy, For ‘twas my father, years ago, that by your hand would die.” “Your father was a scoundrel,” he replied. “A loathsome knave. Be off…or I shall send his spawn to join him in his grave.” “Not so,” said I, “tonight there are two strategies you lack; A wife that you would hide behind…and I’ll not turn my back!” I saw his face grow pale for…as he knew, by what I’d said… I was his - executioner! And then…I shot him dead! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied poems), listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or by simply contacting me - should those of you who enjoy listening to, as well as reading poems, and particularly those who travel care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) Cheers, Mark
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