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The Ballad: An Infographic

By Will Willingham 19 Comments

The most famous balladeer we know may be a man (or woman) called Author Unknown. Originally a common means to pass stories through generations, the ballad began in oral tradition, and some still argue that the author, even when known, should remain unknown, and the verse should belong to the people.

To close out our month-long Ballad theme, we offer an infographic featuring famous ballad poems and folk songs, ballad poets, a little bit of history, and a piece of “The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes.

How to Write a Ballad Infographic

We offer one of the most popular ballads, “The Highwayman, ” here in its entirety. Teacher Julia Kasdorf notes she has had students commit the entire poem to heart!

The Highwayman

PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber 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.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

PART TWO
He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot,  in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

. . .

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

— Alfred Noyes,  for more see Collected Poems

Watch The Highwayman Video, music by Loreena McKennitt:

Related: How to Write a Ballad

Post and infographic by Will Willingham

_______________________

How to Write a Poem 283 high How to Write a Poem uses images like the buzz, the switch, the wave—from the Billy Collins poem “Introduction to Poetry”—to guide writers into new ways of writing poems. Excellent teaching tool. Anthology and prompts included.

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—Callie Feyen, English Teacher, Maryland

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Will Willingham
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Will Willingham
Director of Many Things; Senior Editor, Designer and Illustrator at Tweetspeak Poetry
I used to be a claims adjuster, helping people and insurance companies make sense of loss. Now, I train other folks with ladders and tape measures to go and do likewise. Sometimes, when I’m not scaling small buildings or crunching numbers with my bare hands, I read Keats upside down. My first novel, Adjustments, is available now.
Will Willingham
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Filed Under: Ballad Poems, Ballads, Infographics, poetry, poetry teaching resources

About Will Willingham

I used to be a claims adjuster, helping people and insurance companies make sense of loss. Now, I train other folks with ladders and tape measures to go and do likewise. Sometimes, when I’m not scaling small buildings or crunching numbers with my bare hands, I read Keats upside down. My first novel, Adjustments, is available now.

Comments

  1. Maureen Doallas says

    September 30, 2014 at 10:39 am

    Another wonderful infographic!

    Reply
  2. Charity Singleton Craig says

    October 1, 2014 at 8:31 am

    I didn’t have to look any further than that red sun behind the mountains to know that this was another LW classic! I love your infographics! This one is really informative.

    Reply
  3. Joan Roberts says

    October 1, 2014 at 10:25 am

    Appreciate the info graphic and learning about poetry forms including ballads ~ thank you!

    Reply
  4. L. L. Barkat says

    October 2, 2014 at 9:12 am

    “Look, there goes a ballad now.” Made me laugh. You’re good that way 🙂

    (The Highwayman video made me cry. Ah, well.)

    Reply
  5. Jody Lee Collins says

    October 3, 2014 at 9:02 pm

    You have the most fun way of making literature come to life!

    Reply
  6. Diana Trautwein says

    October 4, 2014 at 12:22 pm

    Thanks, friend, for your usual fine work in this space.

    Reply
  7. Richard Maxson says

    October 6, 2014 at 10:54 am

    A great infographic; it has everything! Loreena McKennitt’s is my favorite vocal of the Highwayman.

    Reply
  8. Bethany Rohde says

    January 9, 2015 at 3:46 am

    What a wonderful infographic and post. Whenever I hear “The Highwayman,” I can’t help but think of Anne of Green Gables reciting it with passion.

    Reply

Trackbacks

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    October 14, 2014 at 10:53 am

    […] read it to me, in hushed tones, across our buttered (but not toasted) cinnamon bread. Besides The Highwayman, “Kubla Khan” is apparently her all-time favorite poem. I did not know that. We reread […]

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  2. The Capitalistic Quandary of Poetry - GANGUPON says:
    October 27, 2014 at 11:08 am

    […] who has the rights to mediocre poetry. I’m talking about Shakespeare, Shelley, Hamilton, Noyes, Angelou, and […]

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  3. The Capitalistic Quandary of Poetry – Huffington Post | says:
    October 27, 2014 at 3:26 pm

    […] who has the rights to mediocre poetry. I’m talking about Shakespeare, Shelley, Hamilton, Noyes, Angelou, and […]

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  4. The Capitalistic Quandary of Poetry | multinationaltelecommunications.com says:
    October 27, 2014 at 4:07 pm

    […] who has the rights to mediocre poetry. I’m talking about Shakespeare, Shelley, Hamilton, Noyes, Angelou, and […]

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  5. The Capitalistic Quandary of Poetry – Huffington Post | Newborn Child Care says:
    October 27, 2014 at 9:32 pm

    […] who has the rights to mediocre poetry. I’m talking about Shakespeare, Shelley, Hamilton, Noyes, Angelou, and […]

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  6. It's National Poultry Month! - says:
    April 2, 2015 at 10:12 am

    […] and it’s time to hatch our best haiku, villanelles, sonnets, sestinas, pantoums, ghazals, ballads, odes, and catalog poems for National Poultry […]

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  7. Love Knot: Poetry Prompt - says:
    February 6, 2017 at 8:01 am

    […] The poem continues in captivating twists and turns but sadly does not lead to a happily-ever-after for Bess and the Highwayman. […]

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    February 6, 2017 at 10:13 am

    […] Post you’ll like: Infographic: How to Write a Ballad […]

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