The town was young 

but I guess we were too 

the winter came colder, harsher 

than the people were used to 

‍

But there’s a saying 

and you’ll follow it if you’re bright: “If you don’t like the cards you been dealt, take it up with Jesus Christ” 

‍

If you look onto the mountains 

you can see a dark streak 

hear the swift gallop of black mares if you listen closely 

‍

A mother screams and cries 

for her only baby boy 

her brother soothes her 

and tells her that she made the right choice 

‍

He was showing signs 

of the devil’s way 

but he was just a child 

when he was taken away 

‍

She’ll never see him 

ever again 

and everyone knows 

he’ll become a highwayman 

‍

They ride past dusk 

but never into day 

spill the blood of little girls 

a horrid price to pay 

‍

And when my mother speaks of them she claims they drive their mares to death guess that’s the brutal life 

of the highwaymen 

‍

The mountains smell like blood

dripping red, the colour of the leaves

and in through the winter storms

it trails the scent through the breeze

‍

Bet you some people have tried 

but you can never catch them 

they live inside freezing winds 

that you only hope will end 

‍

All in dark and handsome cloaks they will come again 

mark my words, and start to pray if you see the highwaymen.

‍