On the Plymouth Road he stopped our coach,

A masked and mounted man,

He menaced us with his approach,

A pistol in each hand.

"Thrown down the safety box" he cried,

The coachman did as bid,

He saw our valuables inside

When he unclasped the lid.

He poured them in his saddlebag

And then he turned to us,

"I wager there's a bit more swag

Let's have it without fuss"

He took the men's hip flasks and rings,

The ladies they fared worse,

He bade them raise their underthings

To find each hidden purse.

He raised his hat in mock salute,

And said: "Before I go

These pistols were not made to shoot

They're only meant for show,

I took your baubles without force

Remember that I pray,"

And then he climbed upon his horse,

And swiftly rode away.

– Reg Ravenscroft, Whitecroft.