Tim the ostler slumbered on his bed of straw,
His porridge lay on the table, cold and hard and raw.
Till he was awoken by hoofsteps on the thistle,
Hoofsteps on the floor,
Horsehoofs on the floor,
He was awoken by horsehoofs; followed by a whistle.

And Tim’s old stable-door creaked open in it’s arc;
And Tim the ostler saw a highwayman in the dark;
He was talking to Bess; Tim would ask her about it later today,
But then the highwayman said,
And then the highwayman said.
Tim the ostler froze when he heard the highwayman say:

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

Tim loved the landlord’s daughter; his face burnt like a brand,
He waited for Bess to retreat from the casement, and for the robber to leave the land;
Then he fitted a horse with a saddle, and on that horse he did mount;
And galloped to the king’s palace,
All the way to the palace,
And told his story to the redcoats, of whom there were too many to count.