A strange meeting

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.