SUPERNOVAANGELHEART

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 co

"On a dark, dark hill, there was a dark, dark town. In the dark, dark town, there was a dark, dark street. On the dark, dark street, there was a dark, dark house. In the dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark staircase. Down the dark, dark staircase, there was a dark, dark cellar. And in the dark, dark cellar, some skeletons lived." 'Funny Bones' by Allan Ahlberg