Harris and the Mare

Harris, my old friend, good to see your face again
 More welcome, though, yon trap and that old mare
 For the wife is in a swoon, and I am all alone
 Harris, fetch thy mare and take us home
 The wife and I came out for a quiet glass of stout
 And a word or two with neighbors in the room
 But young Clary, he came in, as drunk and wild as sin
 And swore the wife would leave the place with him
 But the wife as quick as thought said, "No, I'll bloody not"
 Then struck the brute a blow about the head
 He raised his ugly paw, and he lashed her on the jaw
 And she fell onto the floor like she were dead
 Now Harris, well you know, I've never struck an angry blow
 Nor would I keep a friend who raised his hand
 I was a conscie in the war, cryin' what the hell's this for?
 But I had to see his blood to be a man
 I grabbed him by his coat, spun him 'round and took his throat
 And beat his head upon the parlor door
 He dragged out an awful knife, and he roared "I'll have your life"
 And he stuck me and I fell onto the floor
 Now blood I was from neck to thigh, bloody murder in his eye
 As he shouted out "I'll finish you for sure"
 But as the knife came down, I lashed out from the ground
 And the knife was in his breast and he rolled o'er
 Now with the wife as cold as clay I carried her away
 No hand was raised to help us through the door
 And I've brought her half a mile, but I've had to rest a while
 And none of them I'll call a friend no more
 For when the knife came down, I was helpless on the ground
 No neighbor stayed his hand, I was alone
 By God, I was a man, but now I cannot stand
 Please, Harris, fetch thy mare, take us home
 Oh, Harris, fetch thy mare, and take us out of here
 In my nine and fifty years I've never known
 That to call myself a man, for my loved one I must stand
 Now Harris, fetch thy mare take us home