Heartsick, wishing it all was done.
Oh, I’ll tap my way around to the byre,
And I’ll hear the cows as they chew their hay;
There at least there is none to tire,
There at least I am not in the way.
And they’ll look at me with their velvet eyes
And I’ll stroke their flanks with my woman’s hand,
And they’ll answer to me with soft replies,
And somehow I fancy they’ll understand.
And the horses too, they know me well;
I’m sure that they pity my wretched lot,
And the big fat ram with the jingling bell…
Oh, the beasts are the only friends I’ve got.
And my old dog, too, he loves me more,
I think, than ever he did before.
Thank God for the beasts that are all so kind,
That know and pity the helpless blind!
Ha! they’re coming, the loving pair.
My hand’s a-shake as my pipe I fill.
What if I steal on them unaware
With a reaping-hook, to kill, to kill?…
I’ll do it… they’re there in the mow of hay,
I hear them saying: “He’s out of the way!”
Hark! how they're kissing and whispering.…
Closer I creep… I crouch… I spring.…
(He wakes.)
Ugh! What a horrible dream I’ve had!
And it isn't real… I’m glad, I’m glad!
Marie is good and Marie is true…
