Leaderess of Terralux
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on May 28, 2007 20:24:25 GMT
Edited, Redwall version of "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. Ignore the fact that it mentions moorland. There was no Terraluxian equivilant that rhymed... *Poor excuse!*
The Highwaymouse
The wind was a torrent of darkness among Terralux's trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon Salamandastron's seas,
The road was a thread of moonlight, over stitched on the purple moor,
And the highwaymouse came striding-
Striding, striding-
The highwaymouse came striding, up to the tavern door.
He'd a three-pointed hat on his ears, a bunch of spiders' lace at his chin,
A coat of the damson-wine velvet, and breeches of stolen bat's skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he strode with a silver twinkle,
His velvet coat buttons a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed Terralux's Square,
And he tapped with a claw on the tavern shutters, but nobody was there;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting, but her,
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black fur.
And dark in the Village Square the forge door creaked
Where Tim the black smith listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his fur like mouldy hay,
But the rat loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's dark-furred daughter,
Dumb as a frog he listened, and he heard the highwaymouse say-
"One kiss, my bonny churchmouse, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the crystalled shards before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
I'll be with thee by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell gates should bar the way."
He rose up on his footpaw; he scarce could reach her paw,
And Tim, the rat's, eyes narrowed, for he loathed what he saw -
Bess reached down to her love in the moonlight;
And he kissed her paw in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet forbidden lovers in the moonlight!)
Then the highwaymouse bid her farewell, and hurried away to the West.
He did not come in the dawn light; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the golden sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a dusty thread, stitched upon the purple moor,
The Long Patrol came marching-
Marching, marching-
Lord Brocktree's hares came marching, up to the tavern door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank October ale instead,
But they gagged his dark-furred daughter and bound her to the foot of her bed;
Two of them watched from her window, with longbows and their strange talk!
And there was death at every window;
And Hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, past the guard, the road that he would walk.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering joke;
They bound a slim dagger beside her, with the barrel beneath her throat!
"Keep good ole watch!" and they kissed her.
She remembered her lover say-
"Look for me by moonlight;
I'll be with thee by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell gates should bar the way!"
She twisted her paw behind her; but the knots confirmed her fears!
She writhed her paws till her face was wet with sweat or tears!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Right on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one claw touched it! The dagger at least was hers!
The tip of one claw touched it; she strove no more for the life!
Up, she stood up to attention, below her throat, the knife,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Dusty and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to hear him call her name.
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had the hares heard it? His pawsteps ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were their long ears deaf that they did not hear?
Down the thread of moonlight, through Terralux's gate,
The highwaymouse came striding,
Striding, striding!
The Long Patrol looked to their priming! She stood up still and straight!
Tlot-tlot, in the woodland's silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her eyes yearned for his sight!
Her eyes closed for the last time; Bess drew one last deep breath,
Then her claw moved in the moonlight,
Her dagger drew blood the moonlight,
Stabbed at her throat in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he hurried to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the dagger, drenched with her own pure blood!
Not 'til the dawn he heard it, then his face turned to stone
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for him from her window, and died in the darkness, alone.
Back, he charged in bloodwrath, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his eyes i' the golden morn'; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a crow on the highway,
And he lay in his robber's blood on the highway, with a bunch of spider's lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in Terralux's trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a thread of moonlight, stitched on the purple moor,
The highwaymouse comes striding-
Striding, striding-
The highwaymouse comes striding, up to the tavern door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in Terralux's Square,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but nobody is there;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting, but her,
But the landlord's dark-furred daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black fur.
[/center]The wind was a torrent of darkness among Terralux's trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon Salamandastron's seas,
The road was a thread of moonlight, over stitched on the purple moor,
And the highwaymouse came striding-
Striding, striding-
The highwaymouse came striding, up to the tavern door.
He'd a three-pointed hat on his ears, a bunch of spiders' lace at his chin,
A coat of the damson-wine velvet, and breeches of stolen bat's skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he strode with a silver twinkle,
His velvet coat buttons a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed Terralux's Square,
And he tapped with a claw on the tavern shutters, but nobody was there;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting, but her,
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black fur.
And dark in the Village Square the forge door creaked
Where Tim the black smith listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his fur like mouldy hay,
But the rat loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's dark-furred daughter,
Dumb as a frog he listened, and he heard the highwaymouse say-
"One kiss, my bonny churchmouse, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the crystalled shards before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
I'll be with thee by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell gates should bar the way."
He rose up on his footpaw; he scarce could reach her paw,
And Tim, the rat's, eyes narrowed, for he loathed what he saw -
Bess reached down to her love in the moonlight;
And he kissed her paw in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet forbidden lovers in the moonlight!)
Then the highwaymouse bid her farewell, and hurried away to the West.
He did not come in the dawn light; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the golden sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a dusty thread, stitched upon the purple moor,
The Long Patrol came marching-
Marching, marching-
Lord Brocktree's hares came marching, up to the tavern door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank October ale instead,
But they gagged his dark-furred daughter and bound her to the foot of her bed;
Two of them watched from her window, with longbows and their strange talk!
And there was death at every window;
And Hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, past the guard, the road that he would walk.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering joke;
They bound a slim dagger beside her, with the barrel beneath her throat!
"Keep good ole watch!" and they kissed her.
She remembered her lover say-
"Look for me by moonlight;
I'll be with thee by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell gates should bar the way!"
She twisted her paw behind her; but the knots confirmed her fears!
She writhed her paws till her face was wet with sweat or tears!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Right on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one claw touched it! The dagger at least was hers!
The tip of one claw touched it; she strove no more for the life!
Up, she stood up to attention, below her throat, the knife,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Dusty and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to hear him call her name.
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had the hares heard it? His pawsteps ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were their long ears deaf that they did not hear?
Down the thread of moonlight, through Terralux's gate,
The highwaymouse came striding,
Striding, striding!
The Long Patrol looked to their priming! She stood up still and straight!
Tlot-tlot, in the woodland's silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her eyes yearned for his sight!
Her eyes closed for the last time; Bess drew one last deep breath,
Then her claw moved in the moonlight,
Her dagger drew blood the moonlight,
Stabbed at her throat in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he hurried to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the dagger, drenched with her own pure blood!
Not 'til the dawn he heard it, then his face turned to stone
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for him from her window, and died in the darkness, alone.
Back, he charged in bloodwrath, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his eyes i' the golden morn'; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a crow on the highway,
And he lay in his robber's blood on the highway, with a bunch of spider's lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in Terralux's trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a thread of moonlight, stitched on the purple moor,
The highwaymouse comes striding-
Striding, striding-
The highwaymouse comes striding, up to the tavern door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in Terralux's Square,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but nobody is there;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting, but her,
But the landlord's dark-furred daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black fur.
