The moon is full, and so am I ; 
The night is late, the ale was good ; 
And I must go two miles and more 
Along a country road. 

Now what is this that's drawing near ? 
It seems a man, and tall ; 
But where the face should show its white 
I see no white at all. 

Where is his face : or do I see 
The back part of his head, 
And, with his face turned round about, 
He walks this way ? I said. 

He's close at hand, but where's the face ? 
What devil is this I see ? 
I'm glad my body's warm with ale, 
There's trouble here for me. 

I clutch my staff, I make a halt, 
"His blood or mine," said I. 
"Good-night," the black man said to me, 
As he went passing by.