Yes

With is pants rolled up
And his sleeves rolled down
He rode from afar
To the castaway town
A hill top Hamlet
Praised for its blossoms
And hideaway places for
Bandits and thieves
And horsemen and sailors
And peddlers and princes
Hoof clots on the cobblestone
Mortar sunk
The boy runs out of the carriage
And is unsuspectingly shot