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lirik lagu but for blood – coyote run

i woke one morning when a man came around
in a velvet cloak worth fifty pound
slapped my face with a glove so cold
and said, “my brother means to make you bold”

i blinked my eyes to get the clouds from thence
in a sackcloth shirt worth fifty pence
i said, “now, sir, please stand you free
because it’s clear you’ve got the advantage on me”

my honor cried out for a duel to fight
though my head still hurt from a drinking night
but live or die, i knew my due
was to meet in the morning by the oak and the yew

last night in the tavern you gave the lie
to a man whose honor can’t look it by
today, my brother with a rage supplied
demands on the ‘morrow to be satisfied

my head was reeling and my throat was dry
and i could not recall of giving the lie
i looked at this man and i looked again
for to see in his eyes the face of his kin

my honor cried out for a duel to fight
though my head still hurt from a drinking night
but live or die, i knew my due
was to meet in the morning by the oak and the yew
this man of velvet cloak and hair
did wait for me to acknowledge the dare
i looked at his face, then at his coach
there a family seal that had been on a brooch

some b*st*rd n0ble had been too free
with the ladies of the tavern and that angered me
i’d called him on his lies, the fool
but now it was i that had to face a duel

my honor cried out for a duel to fight
though my head still hurt from a drinking night
but live or die, i knew my due
was to meet in the morning by the oak and the yew

“i do remember your brother,” i said
“and we’ll duel in the morning ’til the blood runs red
where should i go to meet him then?”
“by the oak and the yew in the highland glen”

i slept not a wink that long, cold night
for i thought of the morning and the morning’s fight
the b*st*rd had fought duels before
but i served george in the frenchy wars

we met in the morning in the highland glen
we crossed our swords and were at it then
bared my t**th and he heard me roar
were it not for blood, we’d be at it more
the blades rang out in the morning fog
he slipped and he fell in the muddy bog
down i pounced and we rolled in the dirt
and his sword it tore through my good white shirt

when suddenly in the dirty and the mud
there appeared the telltale color of blood
whether his or mine, we nor could tell
but the duel was over and we knew it well

we met in the morning in the highland glen
we crossed our swords and were at it then
bared my t**th and he heard me roar
were it not for blood, we’d be at it more

from that day forth i could stand with the proud
and hear my name whispered through the crowd
a fighter was i, and i’d fought by the rules
who cares if i lost the duel?
who cares if i lost the duel?

- coyote run

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