The tale
The night was dark. The wind blew chill
Along the cobbles, down the hill
Through the village, o'er the lea
Down to meet the restless sea
O'er the quay a welcome light glowed
Through an ancient dimpled window
In the wind, above the swell
Murmured voices rose and fell
There the tavern - copper scattered
Polished though as nought else mattered
Lowly timbered - fire bright
Dancing shadows filled the night
Beside the chimney, snugly seated
Wind worn sailor slouched defeated
Hollow cheeked and sunken eyed
Wherein the spark of life had died
Then he spoke, the light glowed dimmer
E'en the fire became a glimmer
Save the hollow ticking clock
Not a soul there dared to mock
With mellowed ale in hammered pewter
He told of wreckers, smugglers, looters
Of highwaymen in days of old
Of gallowsmen and bodies cold
© 1998 Chris Hill