The Phantom Rider

Here's to the robbers of old England

My horse spits fire when the night is cold

I've been robbing all the gentlefolk since I was nine years old

stand and deliver your money or your life

give it up to the phantom rider

I work along the highways that lead to London town

taking on the coaches that come from miles around

out from the dark I come pistols In me hands

show your pockets to the phantom rider

Well I done my best for old King George fighting for this land

I got nothing left when I come home except these pistols in me hands

I smile at all the ladies as I rob all the gents

I always was a sinner boys no cause now to repent

and when the all are cursing me and damning me to hell

I say too late for the phantom rider

Well I never robbed nobody that never had enough

carve this on my headstone wont you Fuck life is rough

oh well I hear they wanna hang me a thousand guineas paid

l have to watch it now boys coz some one might get brave

and for the sake of looking good Ill have to put him in his grave

sent to god by the phantom rider

so I am a highwayman I'm living life I'm free

but I know somewhere there's a rope and its waiting just for me

the magistrate is on my back to see if I should slip

he wants to bang me up in Newgate jail and swing me from the gyb

but as my face is turning blue il spit right in his eye

there ain't no grave can hold the phantom rider

no you wont catch the phantom rider

you cant hang the phantom rider