-what i'm acctually going to say-

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, (wind noises)

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, (sea noises)
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding— (horse noises)
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 cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, (clashing noises)
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,