To the tune of an old concertina, By the capstan that stands upon the quay. 31 31 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD JUST as the moon was rising, I met a ghostly pedlar Singing for company beneath his ghostly load,— Once, there were velvet lads with vizards on their faces, Riding up to rob me on the great North Road. Now, my pack is heavy, and my pocket full of guineas Chimes like a wedding-peal, but little I enjoy Roads that never echo to the chirrup of their canter,— The gay Golden Farmer and the Hereford Boy. Rogues were they all, but their raid was from Elf-land! Shod with elfin silver were the steeds they bestrode. 32 32 Merlin buckled on the spurs that wheeled thro’ the wet fern Bright as Jack-o’-Lanthorns off the great North Road. Tales were told in country inns when Turpin rode to Rippleside!