• Song:

    The Witch Of Westmorland

  • Artist:

    Stan Rogers

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G5                   C5            G5               E5
Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield

G5                      D5       E5          C5                  D5
Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field

        G5                  C5          G5                 E5
Saying beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound

        G5                         D5      E5     C5                   D5
There's none but the witch of the Westmorland can make thee hale and sound

   G5                          C5             G5                     E5
So turn, turn your stallion's head til his red mane flies in the wind

        G5            D5        E5          C5                  D5
And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind

     G5                  C5              G5                 E5
And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by

   G5                       D5      E5             C5               D5
Below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry

        G5                    C5        G5                     E5
Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?"

    G5                    D5       E5     C5                     D5
"I seek the Witch of the Westmorland who dwells by the winding mere"

         G5                  C5           G5                 E5
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way

    G5                        D5        E5       C5              D5
Til through the cleft of the Kirkstone Pass the winding water lay

         G5                     C5          G5                     E5
He said "Lie down, my brindled hound, and rest ye, my good grey hawk"

    G5                    D5       E5         C5                 D5
And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk

    G5                     C5        G5                 E5
But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call

      G5                     D5        E5           C5                D5
For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all."

         G5                   C5         G5              E5
And it's down to the water's brim he's born the rowan shield

        G5            D5       E5    C5                       D5
And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield

    G5                     C5         G5                   E5
And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she

      G5                D5     E5           C5                  D5
One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body

    G5                        C5            G5                E5
And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side

     G5            D5        E5       C5              D5
High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly he did ride

    G5                         C5          G5                      E5
Say "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare

G5                    D5        E5        C5                   D5
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair."

          G5                         C5            G5                E5
She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword.  Lay down thy rowan shield

      G5                D5         E5                C5              D5
For I see by the briny blood that flows you've been wounded in the field"

        G5                         C5           G5                   E5
And she stood in a gown of velvet blue, bound round with a silver chain

          G5                    D5      E5        C5                 D5
and she's kissed his pale lips one and twice and three times round again

          G5                               C5         G5                   E5
And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod, full fast in her arms he lay

    G5            D5       E5             C5               D5
and he has risen hale and sound with the sun high in the day

          G5                                C5             G5                 E5
She said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel and your good grey hawk in hand

        G5                 D5           E5            C5                   D5
There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the Westmorland"
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