G                   C            G               Em7 
Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield 
 
G                      D7       Em          C                  D 
Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field 
 
        G                  C          G                 Em7 
Saying beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound 
 
        G                         D7      Em     C                   D 
There's none but the witch of the Westmorland can make thee hale and sound 
 
   G                          C             G                     Em7 
So turn, turn your stallion's head til his red mane flies in the wind 
 
        G            D7        Em          C                  D 
And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind 
         
     G                  C              G                 Em7 
And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by 
 
   G                       D7      Em             C               D 
Below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry 
 
        G                    C        G                     Em7 
Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?" 
 
    G                    D7       Em     C                     D 
"I seek the Witch of the Westmorland who dwells by the winding mere" 
 
         G                  C           G                 Em7 
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way 
 
    G                        D7        Em       C              D 
Til through the cleft of the Kirkstone Pass the winding water lay 
 
         G                     C          G                     Em7 
He said "Lie down, my brindled hound, and rest ye, my good grey hawk" 
 
    G                    D7       Em         C                 D 
And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk 
 
    G                     C        G                 Em7 
But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call 
 
      G                     D7        Em           C                D 
For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all." 
 
         G                   C         G              Em7 
And it's down to the water's brim he's born the rowan shield 
 
        G            D7       Em    C                       D 
And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield 
 
    G                     C         G                   Em7 
And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she 
 
      G                D7     Em           C                  D 
One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body 
 
    G                        C            G                Em7 
And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side 
 
     G            D7        Em       C              D 
High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly he did ride 
 
    G                         C          G                      Em7 
Say "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare 
 
G                    D7        Em        C                   D 
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair." 
 
          G                         C            G                Em7 
She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword.  Lay down thy rowan shield 
      
      G                D7         Em                C              D 
For I see by the briny blood that flows you've been wounded in the field" 
     
        G                         C           G                   Em7 
And she stood in a gown of velvet blue, bound round with a silver chain 
       
          G                    D7      Em        C                 D 
and she's kissed his pale lips one and twice and three times round again 
  
          G                               C         G                   Em7 
And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod, full fast in her arms he lay 
       
    G            D7       Em             C               D 
and he has risen hale and sound with the sun high in the day 
         
          G                                C             G                 Em7 
She said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel and your good grey hawk in hand 
           
        G                 D7           Em            C                   D 
There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the Westmorland"