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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365854" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Smugglers Pie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The body of smuggler Robert Long<br>Hung by the road in chains, <br>His flesh was mouldering from his bones<br>Washed clean by the Cornish rains, <br>The crows had taken his sorry eyes, <br>His wife, the gold from his teeth, <br>But some kind soul from near Mousehole<br>Had left at his feet, a wreath! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Excise men ranged over the cliffs, <br>The Revenue men below, <br>And Customs Officers manned the cutters<br>That intercepted the flow, <br>They boarded the bold East Indiamen<br>Who sold their goods tax free, <br>And many a thief has come to grief<br>When the waves tipped them into the sea! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The goods that lay in the Cornish coves<br>Tobacco, brandy and rum, <br>Were smuggled up onto Bodmin Moor<br>And sold for a tidy sum, <br>The coast was riddled with tunnels, caves, <br>And one led into a church, <br>The spirits that lay in the belfry there<br>Were hidden away from the search! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Battling Bill at the Halfway House<br>Long lightened the nation's purse, <br>He'd run his brandy up to the Inn<br>Using a horse-drawn hearse, <br>Surprised one day by the Revenue<br>They shot poor Bill through the neck, <br>But dead, his hand whipped the horses' still<br>And the hearse ran away from the wreck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hearse, it rattled Polperro streets, <br>Rolled over the cobblestones, <br>With Bill stuck firm to the riding seat<br>Not ready to make old bones, <br>He drove the length of the shopping street<br>And straight down onto the quay, <br>Then toppled into the harbour there, <br>But his ghost came back from the sea! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They smuggled silk, they smuggled wine, <br>They smuggled bags of tea, <br>Whatever the King put taxes on<br>The Cornish smuggled for free, <br>A convict ship to Australia<br>Was the worst that most of them got, <br>Apart from the likes of Robert Long<br>As he hung in his chains, to rot! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">17 July 2012</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365854" data-title="Smugglers Pie de David Lewis Paget" data-description="The body of smuggler Robert Long
Hung by the road in chains, 
His flesh was mouldering from his bones
Washed clean by the Cornish rains, 
The crows had taken his sorry eyes, 
His wife, the gold from his teeth, 
But some kind soul from near Mouseho..."></div>
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