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