The Deacon's Revenge

All the while the lantern burns
Shining like a beacon
Hanging on the chapel wall
Guarded by the Deacon

Down along the dusty road
The stagecoach is expected
With a load of gold and silver plate
Nothing is neglected

With the grinding wheels and rattling chains
The stagecoach is arriving
The leather soaking up the horses'
Sweat of hours driving

Through the gate the Coachman wheels
To halt below the lamplight
To hand the plate in to the church
Upon the stroke of midnight

The Deacon takes the brassbound chest
And stands it in the entrance
And bids the Coachman fast away
Refusing all assistance

And when the lamps upon the coach
Have faded to a flicker
The Deacon leads his saddled horse
From where it has been tethered

Upon its back the chest is tied
As minutes tick past midnight
The Deacon climbs up on the mare
And smothering the lamplight

The chapel door he leaves ajar
The wind begins it banging
And from the chapel gallery
The Minister is hanging