When a horseman comes rapidly up from behind,
And a voice in his ear
Shouts in tones round and clear,
“Ho, there! stand and deliver! your money or life!”
While some murderous weapon, a pistol or knife,
Held close to his head,
As these words are being said,
Glitters cold in the moonlight, and fills him with dread.
Now I think you will own,
That when riding alone