I keep seeing a vision of Boris Karloff reciting "The Highwayman".
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding— Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door
3 comments:
Looks like a pitching duel at City Field tonight.
Funny you should run this.
I keep seeing a vision of Boris Karloff reciting "The Highwayman".
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door
Needs more cowbell.
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