Highwayman Cape

How it Began; or, The Highwayman's Lament The wind was a frosty torrent moaning amidst the trees, The moon was a frozen galleon tossed upon icy seas, When the Highwayman he galloped half-dead to the old inn door. “I’ll go no more a-riding--riding--riding, It's cold as Hell a-riding out on that blasted moor!” The landlord's daughter heard him and flew to her narrow bed. “I’m tired of all his whining about the cold," she said. “A robber's job is robbing, and bringing home the gold!” So she ripped down the curtains--curtains--curtains, The warm and snuggly curtains that kept her from the cold. The Highwayman he drank his rum while Bess she cut and sewed A double cape with hood all in the very latest mode. She threw it 'round his shoulders as she pushed him out the door. Said she, "Your job is robbing--robbing--robbing, You get right back to robbing, and whine to me no more!” Poplin. One size; approx. 48" from shoulder.