Everyone thinks they know the story of Dick Turpins highway glory but my
Past is far more gory was no saint u think life is one big antic my
Proffesion is romantic hate to be padantic but it aint

As a bucher down in essex I was handy with a knife was sidelined as a
Poacher led a less than honest life the notorious gang of gregory liked my
Stile and dedication they signed me up and gave me a real robbers education

We rampaged thro the Essex farms we stole and robbed and fought but when
The law came for us I escaped and they got caught
I became a highway man was daylight robbery I was no prince charming

Nothing dandy about me
The truth is I was violent and with my good mate matt king robbed travelers
At gun point money watches anything my horse it wasn't called black bess

Altho that's what youve read was no romantic hero shot not 1 but 2 men dead
The ledgend that surorounds me misses out the crucial part I was a ruthless
Killer with a ruthless killers heart

Was a visious highway man a source of pain and tears whan u hear how my
Story ends u wont belive ur ears
I ran away to yorkshire changed my name to John Palmer was sent to prison

After steeling chickens from a famer wrote a letter to my family a plee it
Did realate the postman and heares the twist of fait he had taught me how
To write so he knew I lied that's not John Palmers hand that's Dick Turpin

He cried
Was a visious highwayman my crimes had brought me fame was stitched up by a
Postie that's not glamours that's lame no more stand and deliver ull remember

This I hope it's no fun hanging with highwaymen when ur