The dem'd Apostle's, from some place
Where he had hid his ugly face,—
Crying out faint and thick and clear,
Yes, villain, touch her if you deer!'
So riled I was, to be so beat,
I could have Struck her to my feet
I didn't tho', tho' sore beset—
I never struck a woman yet.
"But off I walked right up the pass,
And found the men among the grass,