Vincent the Clawhammer is out with twenty Southern men to raze the Mason Dixon line,

And he has stolen Meagher's red mare that is the General's pride.

He has led her out of the stable-door between the dawn and day

And shed her of her Union saddle, and ridden her far away.

Then up and spoke General Meagher's son who led a troop Irish Lights:

"Is there never a man of all my men who can say where Vincent hides?"

Well, up and spoke Private Macguire, a son of Erinn by birth:

"If you know the path of the morning-mist, you know where his snipers lurk.

At dusk he raids the Virginian Camps - by dawn he is into the hills,

But he must go by the lower road to his own place to fare.

So if you gallop down that lowland trail as fast as a bird can fly,

By the favor of God you may cut him off before he reaches the border of North Carolin'

But if he wins past the Borderline, swiftly turn back then,

For the length and the width of that grisly Piedmont is sown with Gray-coated men.

There is Pine to the left, and Oak to the right, and lowly Magnolia between,

And you may hear a rifle crack where never a man is seen."

Meagher's son has taken a horse, and a raw, rough quarter was he,

With a mouth like a bell and a heart like Hell and a neck like a gallows-tree.

Now, General Meagher's son to the mess hall has won, they bid him stay to eat

Who rides at the tail of a Rebel thief, he sits not long at his meat.

He's up and away from the calvary camp as fast as he can fly,

Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the border o' North Carolin',

Till he was aware of his father's mare with The Clawhammer upon her back,

And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the Pistol crack.

He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide.

You shoot like a soldier," Vincent said. "Chase me now if you can ride!

It's up and over the Borderside, as the blown war-winds go

The Quarter, he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.

The Quarter, he leaned against the bit and raised his head above,

But the red mare played with the steel bars, as a maiden plays with a glove.

There was Pine to the left and Oak to the right, and lowly Magnolia between,

And three times he heard a rifle crack though never a man was seen.

They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hooves drum up the dawn,

The Quarter, he went like a wounded bull, but the mare, like a new-roused fawn.

The Quarter, he collapsed into some shallow brook - in a woeful heap fell he,

And Vincent has turned the red mare back, and pulled the Quarter's rider free.

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand - small room was there to strive,

"It was only by favor of mine," said he, " you rode so long alive:

There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree,

That did not cover a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.

If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,

The little foxes that flee so fast would be feasting all in a row.

If I had bowed my head on my chest, as I have held it high,

The buzzard that circles above us now would have gorged till he could not fly."

Politely answered the General's son: "My carcass would feed good bird and beast,

But weak is he who comes with threats before he makes a Peace.

If there should follow a thousand Union boys to carry my bones away.

I'd think the price of a buzzard's meal might be more than a treacherous thief could pay.

They will feed their horses on the waving wheat, their men on hand-shucked corn and grain.

The thatch of your homes will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.

But if you think the price is fair - your brethren wait to fire,

The hound is kin to the wild dog - howl, dog, and call their ire!

And if you think the price is high, in steer and gear and iron track,

Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back!"

Vincent the Clawhammer has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet.

"No matter are dogs," said he, "when gray wolf and hunter meet.

May I eat dirt if you have heard of me in mere deed or breath;

What Hellish fantasy vomited you forth to jest at the dawn with Death?"

Sternly answered Meagher's son: "I hold by the blood of Ireland:

Take the mare as my father's gift - by God, she has carried a man!"

The red mare ran to the General's son, and nuzzled against his breast;

"We are two strong men," said Vincent then, " but she loves the younger best.

So she shall be mine for a Rebel's gift, my banner-emblazoned rein,

My embroidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrup between."

General Meagher's drew a pistol, and held it muzzle-end,

You have taken a mare from a foe," said he. " Will you take an arm from a friend?"

"A gift for a gift," said Vincent straight; "a limb for the risk of a limb.

Your father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him!"

With that he whistled for his only son, that dropped from a grassy crest

He marched the lowland road like a buck in spring, and he looked like a cannon in rest.

"Now here is your Commander," The Clawhammer said, "who leads a troop of Irish Lights,

And you must ride at his left side as a rifle on the shoulder rides.

Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,

Your life is his - your fate it is to guard him with your head.

So, you must eat the Yankee's meat, and all his foes are thine,

And you must harass your father's hold for the peace of the Mason-Dixon line.

And you must make a trooper tough and hack your way to power

So that they may raise you to Colonel when I am hanged behind bars!"

They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault.

They have taken the Oath of the Fellow-soldier on levin and bread and salt:

They have taken the Oath of the Respected-foe on fire and fresh-cut sod,

On the hilt and the shaft of the Bowie knife, and the Wondrous Names of God.

General Meagher's son, he rides the mare, and Vincent's boy the Quarter,

And two have come back to the Union Camp where there set out but one.

And when they drew to the Tower-Guard, full twenty sabres flew clear

There was not a man that did not carry his feud with the blood of the Southron here.

Said the General's son: "Seathe your steel back at your sides!

Last night you had struck at a Rebel thief - tonight he is a man of the Lights!"