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The Witch of the Westmereland - Lyrics

Pale was the wounded knight
Who bore the rowen shield,
Loud and cruel were the ravens cries
That feasted on the fields,
Saying "Beck water cold and clear,
Will never clean your wounds.
There's none but the witch of the westmereland
Can make thee hale and sound."
"So turn, turn your stallions head
Till his red mane flies in the wind,
And the rider of the moon goes by
And the bright star falls behind."
Clear was the paley moon
When a shadow passed him by;
Below the hill were the brightest stars
When he heard the owlet cry.
Singing, "Why do you ride this way
And wherefore came you here?"
"I seek the Witch of the westmereland
Who dwells by the winding mere."
And it's weary by the Ullswater
And the misty brake fern way
Till through the cut of the kirkstane pass
The winding water lay.
He said, "Lie down my brindled hound
And rest ye my good grey hawk,
And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill
For I must dismount and walk."
"Come when you hear my horn
And answer swift the call,
For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn
Ye will serve me best of all."
And it's down to the water's brim
He's borne the rowen shield,
And the Goldenrod he has cast in
To see what the lake might yield.
Wet rose she from the lake
And fast and fleet went she,
One half the form of a maiden fair
With a jet-black mares body.
Loud, long and shrill he blew,
Till his steed was by his side;
High overhead the grey hawk flew
And swiftly he did ride.
"Course well, my brindled hound,
And fetch me the jet-black mare!
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk,
And bring me the maiden fair!"
She said, "Pray sheath thy silvery sword,
Lay down the rowen shield.
For I see by the briny blood that flows
You've been wounded in the field."
She stood in a gown of velvet blue,
Bound 'round with a silver chain,
And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice
And three times 'round again.
And she's bound his wounds with the Goldenrod
Full fast in her arms she lay,
And he has risen, hale and sound,
With the sun high in the day.
"So ride with your brindled hound at heel
And your good grey hawk in hand.
There's none can harm the knight who's lain
With the witch of the westmereland."

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