He wandered lonely on the prowl
Tears rolling down his craggy face.
He permanently wore a scowl
Because of his amassed disgrace.
The bounty placed upon his head
Would not be paid until he’s dead.
So hunters searched across the land
To track their foe and test their skills.
He killed them all in hand-to-hand.
Each death marked with some Daffodils.
His empty heart held no remorse
As he galloped forward on his horse.
He hankered for his highway days
When he ran with the Essex Gang,
They robbed and raped and set ablaze.
He loved those boys, but now they hang.
And he’s the last, that bastard son,
His last few days spent on the run.
But he was cornered in Chepstow
By posse in wild vengeful state
And after he’s interred below
The lawman stood to contemplate
With respect poised as he laid still
Upon his grave, one Daffodil.
William Wordsworth, English romantic poet, was born today in 1770.
Jackie Chan, Hong Kong martial artist, actor and film maker, was born on this day in 1954.
Dick Turpin, English highwayman, died today in 1739.