G : 000200 C : 020000 ou 520000 Em7 : 025000 D9 : 002020 Em : 024400 D : 002002 Pale_ was_ the wounded knight_ that bore_ the rowan_ shield_ Loud_ and_ cruel_ were the ra_-ven's_ cries_ that feasted on_ the field_ Saying_ beck_ water cold and_ clear_ will never_ clean_ your wound_ There's none_ but the witch of_ the West-_morland_ can make_ thee hale and sound_ So turn_ turn your stallion's_ head_ til his_ red_ mane_ flies in the wind_ And the ri_-der of_ the moon_ goes_ by_ and the bright star falls behind_ And cle-e-ar_ was_ the paley_ moon_ when his shadow_ passed him by_ Be_-low_ the_ hills_ were the brigh-_test stars_ when he heard_ the owlet cry_ Saying_ "Why_ do you ride_ this_ way__ and wherefore came_ you here?"__ "I seek_ the Witch of_ the West-morland who dwells_ by the winding mere"_ And it's we-a-ry by_ the Ulls_-wa__-ter_ and the misty brake fern_ way__ Til_ through_ the cleft_ of the Kirkstone Pass the winding wa-a_-ter lay___ He said_ "Lie_ down_ my brin_-dled__ hound__ and rest_ ye my good grey_ hawk"_ And thee_ my steed_ may graze_ thy fill_ for I must_ dismount_ and walk_ But co-o-me_ 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 born_ the rowan shield_ And the gol_-den_-rod he has_ cast in_ to see__ what the lake_ might_ yield_ And wet_ rose__ she from_ the lake__ and fast and fleet_ went_ she_ One half__ the form_ of a mai-_den_ fair_ with a jet_ black_ mare's bo-o-dy_ And loud_ long_ and shrill he__ blew__ til his steed_ was by_ his side_ High-i_-i-i__ o-ver-head_ the grey hawk_ flew_ and swiftly he_ did ride_ Saying_ "Course_ well_ my brin-_dled__ hound__ and fetch me the jet black_ mare_ Stoop and strike_ my good grey_ hawk_ and bring me the mai-ai_-den fair"__ She said_ "Pray_ sheathe_ thy sil_-very sword_ Lay down_ thy rowan_ shield_ For I see_ by the bri_-ny blood_ that flows_ you've been woun_-ded in_ the field"_ And she sto-od-in a gow-own of velvet blue__ bou-ou-ound_ round_ with a silver chain_ and she's kissed_ his pale_ lips one_ and_ twice and three times_ round_ again_ And she's bound_ his wounds_ with the gol-_den_-rod_ fu-u-u-ull_ fast in her arms_ he lay_ and he_ has risen_ hale and sound with the sun high in the day_ She said_ "Ride with your brin_-dled_ hound_ at_ heel__ and your good grey hawk_ in han_-a-a-and" There's none can harm_ the knight who's lain_ with the Witch of the Westmorland"_