Author Information
THE SMUGGLER
He rides his black horse fast and reckless
as he crosses Campbell's Firth
through the wild and cruel Cornish hills
heading toward the north
the smuggler in his hooded mask
rides swiftley through the night
and a gleam shines from determined eyes
as he rides with all his might
Hide, if you should hear his galloping footsteps
for they be both loud and stout
as he makes his way through wild English moors
toward St. Michaels Mount
Listen well if you should hear him
for I do not lie or play
beware the black horseman on his sturdy steed
or you might rue the day
His lusty laugh rolls through the night
and echoes loud and clear
so pull the covers o'er your head
if you should hear him near
he circles swiftly down the rocky cliff
and on to the jagged shore
and listens as he waits astride his fearless steed
to the Atlantic's powerful roar
Sweet scent of heather and of bracken brown
wafe 'cross flared nostrals there
and the brine from the water far below
smells harsh in the oceans salty air
a dot of light he then espies
from a ship anchored off the coast
and he smiles behind his hooded cape
and raises his hand in a toast
A black ship loaded down with goods
spices, rum and lace and silk
jewels too, and he'd have it all
as he slipped his sword from its silver hilt
He was the dark and fearsome horseman
just the name would cause you fright
and now white teeth flashed in an erie grin
as he waited in the night
The moon shines low, the tide is high
the winds are wild and swift
and he watches the row boat's come to shore
from his perch there on the cliff
swiftly goes the arrow, straight and true
landing right on track
and three more ores'men felt it too
before they could turn back
Fast now through the tinge of brambles
he makes his way to shore
silent as the dawning of the day
and to the treasures, now he bore
gold and silver coins, and pearls
perfumes and oils so rare
and as he quickly loads it on his hoerse
he smells the salty air
And homeward now he makes his way
o'er rich brown earth and heather
thanking God for such good luck
and for the mist and foggy weather
Many miles he traveled on this night
o'er hills and blue bells in the dell
trying to get home once again
before the moon turns pale
Tired now he stashed it all
in dungeons wide and deep
along with treasures old and new
that he had sworn to keep
he thought now of his sweet lady wife
the golden Leonore
now more riches he could give to her
this one he did adore
A Celtic lass with eyes of black
wild blood running through her veins
and to this girl he pledged his life
and to her his love remains
He climbed the stairs up to his room
as the sunshine turned to red
and now Lord Cameron sleeps a peaceful sleep
in his own and downy bed
