The Witch of the Westmerelands --- Archie Fisher
[G]Pale was the
wounded knight that [C]bore the Rowan [D7]shield.
[G]Loud and cruel were the [C]ravens’ cries, that [Am]feasted on the [D7]field. Saying:
[G]“Beck water, cold
and clear, will [C]never clean your [D7]wound.
There’s [G]none but the Maid of the [C]Winding Mere can [Am]make thee hale and [D7]soond.”
So [G]course well,
my brindled hounds, and [C]fetch me the
Whose [G]coat is as gray as the [C]wastewater or as [Am]white as the lily [D7]fair, who said:
[G]“Green moss and
heather bands will [C]never stanch the [D7]flood.”
“There’s [G]none but the Witch of the [C]Westmerelands can [Am]save thy dear life’s [D7]blood.”
“So [G]turn, turn
your stallion’s head ‘til his [C]red mane
flies in the [D7]wind.”
“And the [G]rider of the [C]moon gaes by and the [Am]bright star falls be-[D7]hind.”
And [G]clear was the
paley moon when his [C]shadow passed him
Be-[G]low the hill was the [C]brightest star when he [Am]heard the howlet [D7]cry. Saying:
[G]“Why do you ride
this way and [C]wherefore cam’ ye [D7]here?”
I [G]seek the Witch of the [C]Westmerelands that [Am]dwells by the winding [D7]mere.
“Then [G]fly free
your good gray hawk to [C]gather the
“And [G]face your horse in-[C]to the clouds a-[Am]bove yon gay green [D7]wood.”
“And it’s [G]weary
by the Ullswater and the [C]misty
“‘Til [G]through the cleft o’ the [C]Kirkstane Pass the [Am]winding waters [D7]lay.”
He said: [G]“Lie
down my brindled hound, and [C]rest you
my good gray [D7]hawk.”
“And [G]thee, my steed, may [C]graze thy fill for I [Am]must dismount and [D7]walk.”
“But [G]come when
you hear my horn and [C]answer swift the
“For [G]‘ere the sun shall [C]rise this morn you will [Am]serve me best of [D7]all.”
And [G]down to the
water’s brim he’s [C]borne the Rowan [D7]shield.
And the [G]goldenrod he [C]has cast in to [Am]see what the lake might [D7]yield.
And [G]wet rose she
from the lake and [C]fast and fleet gaed
One-[G]half the form of a [C]maiden fair with a [Am]jet-black mare’s bod-[D7]y.
And [G]loud, long,
and shrill he blew,and his [C]steed was
by his [D7]side.
High [G]overhead his [C]gray hawk flew and [Am]swiftly he did [D7]ride. Saying:
[G]“Course well my
brindled hounds and [C]fetch me the
[G] “Stoop and strike, my [C]good gray hawk and [Am]bring me the maiden [D7]fair.” She said:
thy silv’ry sword. Lay [C]down thy Rowan
“For I [G]see by the briney [C]blood that flows you’ve been [Am]wounded in the [D7]field.”
And she [G]stood in
a gown of velvet blue, bound [C]‘round
with a silver [D7]chain.
She’s [G]kissed his pale lips [C]aince and twice and [Am]three times ‘round a-[D7]gain.
And she’s [G]bound
his wound with the goldenrod; full [C]fast
in her arms he [D7]lay.
And [G]he has risen [C]hale and soond wi’ the [Am]sun high in the [D7]day. She said:
[G]“Ride with your
brindled hounds at heel and your [C]good
gray hawk in [D7]hand.”
“There’s [G]nane can harm a [C]knight wha’s lain with the [Am]Witch of the [D7]Westmere-[G]land.”
Back to songs index