BORDER CATTLE THIEF
55
The one I’ll shoot at twilight tide,
At dawn I’ll drive the other;
The black shall mourn for hoof and hide,
The white man for his brother.
At dawn I’ll drive the other;
The black shall mourn for hoof and hide,
The white man for his brother.
’Tis war, red war, I’ll give you then,
War till my sinews fail;
For the wrong you have done to a chief of men
And a thief of the Zukka Kheyl.
War till my sinews fail;
For the wrong you have done to a chief of men
And a thief of the Zukka Kheyl.
And if I fall to your hand afresh
I give you leave for the sin,
That you cram my throat with the foul pig’s flesh
And swing me in the skin!
I give you leave for the sin,
That you cram my throat with the foul pig’s flesh
And swing me in the skin!
