Joseph Brenan

The Romance of the Headless Horseman

I.

Ope the doors, both front and back;

Through them lies the horseman's track.

Clear the floor, and cease from talk;

Now I hear him on his walk.

II.

Here's the headless horseman's course----

Headless horseman and weird horse;

Swerve he may not from the path

Marked out for him, by heaven's wrath.

III.

On his walk this house was placed;

Right across his path 'twas raised;

Through this house, from front to back,

Must he hold his nightly track.

IV.

See! now through the door he rides;

His left hand the bridle guides;

From his severed head the gore

Gushes all his bosom o'er.

V.

High in his right hand is held

A purse, with golden pieces swelled;

Drenched with blood that purse appears;

From it drop the bloody tears.

VI.

On he rides upon his path--

Save our souls from heaven's dread wrath--

Onward man and horse now go,

On their course round Shanacloch.

VII.

Now he's past out at the rere--

Sight of horror and of fear!

Now, while round him moans the gale,

Hear the headless horseman's tale.

VIII.

When the Barry's ruled below,

In the fort of Shanacloch;

Siege was to the castle laid--

Brave defence the Barry's made.

IX.

Back the siegers, bathed in blood,

Drove they to the Bride's dark flood;

Routed, thence, the Saxons go,

From the walls of Shanacloch.

X.

Next day, they a merchant found,

Who to Shanacloch was bound;

Known to all the Barry clan--

Known, and trusted, was this man.

XI.

Him the Saxon bribed with gold,

To betray the Barry's hold:

Ope'd he, next night, the strong gate;

Then the Barry's met their fate.

XII.

Calmly sleeping, side by side,

Shanacloch's bold Barry's died;

Stabbed they them, till every floor

Seemed a lake of crimson gore.

XIII.

Now the Saxon warriors hold

Shanacloch, thus gained by gold.

Comes the traitor, and demands

Promised gold from their red hands.

XIV.

"Promised gold must be paid;"

Thus the Saxon leader said;

"But some interest must be due;

Steel must clear that score with you."

XV.

Then a gold-filled purse he laid,

On the floor, and drew his blade:

When the merchant, to it, stooped,

Through the air, the broadsword swooped.

XVI.

Swept the broadsword through his neck,

Without stay, and without check;

Fell his pale head, on the floor;

Gushed the blood, his false breast o'er.

XVII,

The Barry's dead-- the spoiler's gone-

Shanacloch's a ruin grown;

But the traitor's unforgiven,

On this earth, or yet in heaven.

XVIII.

Bloodstained, headless, still, he bides;

Still, round Shanacloch he rides;

And, still, holds the useless gold,

For which Shanacloch was sold.