The Witch of the Westmorland Chords

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Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield 
 
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Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field 
 
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Saying beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound 
 
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There's none but the witch of the Westmorland can make thee hale and sound 
 
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So turn, turn your stallion's head til his red mane flies in the wind 
 
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And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind 
         
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And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by 
 
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Below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry 
 
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Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?" 
 
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"I seek the Witch of the Westmorland who dwells by the winding mere" 
 
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And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way 
 
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Til through the cleft of the Kirkstone Pass the winding water lay 
 
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He said "Lie down, my brindled hound, and rest ye, my good grey hawk" 
 
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And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk 
 
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But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call 
 
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For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all." 
 
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And it's down to the water's brim he's born the rowan shield 
 
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And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield 
 
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And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she 
 
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One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body 
 
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And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side 
 
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High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly he did ride 
 
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Say "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare 
 
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Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair." 
 
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She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword.  Lay down thy rowan shield 
      
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For I see by the briny blood that flows you've been wounded in the field" 
     
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And she stood in a gown of velvet blue, bound round with a silver chain 
       
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and she's kissed his pale lips one and twice and three times round again 
  
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And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod, full fast in her arms he lay 
       
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and he has risen hale and sound with the sun high in the day 
         
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She said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel and your good grey hawk in hand 
           
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There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the Westmorland"