by William Armstrong
The sound of footsteps he heard outside the door
Made him fearful, he could hear his pounding heart
Sweat poured down his brow, standing still in the dark
Hoping and praying that they would soon depart
But they kicked down the door, then cornered him
Pointed muskets in his direction, ready to shoot
They manhandled him and pushed him roughly outside
While a few remained looking for something to loot
He was forced to march on foot while they rode
He wondered if he would make it alive into town
They called him names; one menaced him with a whip
Forced him to his knees, then he fell to the ground
It didn't look good, there was still a mile to go
He said a prayer, hoping for God to spare his life
He couldn't pay his taxes, so they came in the night
Taking him from his home, left behind his crying wife
Then the silence was shattered, for from the shadows
Came a rider on an ebony horse, sword in his hand
An avenger seeking justice, an angel dressed in black
Someone who men of evil feared throughout the land
The masked rider, like a demon, rode straight at them
Sword flashing not to kill but to leave them disarmed
One by one they were overtaken and then felt his wrath
Knocked a few off their horses but no one was harmed
The prisoner was freed and told to return to his home
The lancers' horses were scattered, the rescue was done
Eight men defeated by one, his mark left on their cheek
The word would get around, Zorro Rides For Freedom!
