Joan Lockley

Many years ago my father used to sit me on his knee and say “Back, back he rode like a mad man, shrieking a curse to the sky with the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high”, and that’s all he knew. I was so intrigued with wanted to know more, I got a book out of the library, found the poem and learnt all 16 verses off by heart. I love it and will always love it.