The famous odyssey of the soldier in search of miraculous healing. A fairytale masterpiece by Archie Fisher. This epic is unmatched in 20th century ballad composition.
lyrics
Pale was the wounded knight,
Who bore the rowan shield.
Loud and cruel were the ravens’ cries
That feasted on the field.
Sayin’ “beck water cold and clear
Will never clean your wounds;
There’s none but the Witch of the Westmerelands
Can make thee healed and sound.”
“So course well my brindled hounds
And fetch me the mountain hare
Whose coat is as gray as the West water
Or as white as the lily fair”
Who said, “Green moss and heather bands
Will never staunch the flood,
There’s none but the Witch of the Westmerelands
Can save thy dear life’s blood”
“So turn, turn your stallion’s head
‘Till his red mane flies in the wind,
And the rider of the moon goes by
And the bright star falls behind.”
And clear was the pale evening,
As his shadow passed him by.
And overhead was the brightest star
When he heard the owlet cry.
Sayin’ “why do you ride this way?
And wha'fore came ye here?”
“I seek the Witch of the Westmerelands
Who dwells by the winding mere.”
And it’s weary by Ellswater
In the misty brakefern way;
And through the crest of the Kirksten Pass
The winding water lay.
And he said “lie down my brindled hounds,
And rest ye, my good grey hawk,
And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill
For I must dismount and walk.”
“But come when you hear my horn,
And answer swift the call.
For I fear ere the sun shall rise this morn’,
You may serve me best of all.”
And it’s down to the water’s brim
He’s borne the rowan shield;
And the goldenrod he has cast in
To see what the lake might yield.
And wet rose she from the lake
And fast and fleet rode she;
One half the form of a maiden fair,
With a jet-black mare’s body.
And loud, long and shrill he blew,
‘Till his steed was by his side;
And over head his grey hawk flew,
And swiftly he did ride.
Sayin’ “course well, my brindled hounds
And fetch me the jet-black mare.
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk
And bring me the maiden fair.”
And she said, “pray sheath thy silvery sword,
Lay down thy rowan shield.
For I see by the briny blood that flows,
You’ve been wounded in the field.”
And she stood in her gown of the velvet blue
Bound round with a silver chain;
And she’s kissed his pale lips once and twice,
And three times ‘round again.
And she’s bound his wounds with the goldenrod
Full fast in her arms he lay.
And he has risen healed and sound,
With the sun high in the day.
And she said, “ride with your brindled hounds at heel,
And your good grey hawks in hand;
There’s none can harm a knight who’s lain
With the Witch of the Westmerelands.”
Maggie Drennon is a premiere voice in Celtic singing, a long standing influence in folk music. She was a founding member of
Ceili's Muse in 1989, and SixMileBridge in 1997
Now, with a solo performance that is meaningful yet lighthearted, she is deeply devoted to sharing Celtic traditions with American audiences.
Most importantly she brings us the soaring voice that will inspire your heart!...more
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