The witch of the Westmorland

Stan Rogers

Transposer:

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"_

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La chanson raconte l'histoire d'un chevalier blessé qui, en quête de guérison, cherche la mystérieuse sorcière du Westmorland. Les cris des corbeaux et le froid de l'eau ne parviennent pas à soigner ses blessures, et il apprend que seule cette sorcière peut l'aider. Dans son chemin, il traverse des paysages enchanteurs, tout en évoquant la beauté de la lune et des étoiles. Lorsqu'il atteint enfin le bord du lac, il appelle la sorcière qui émerge des eaux. Elle, à moitié femme et à moitié jument, prend soin de lui, les témoignant de sa magie en bandant ses blessures avec une fleur dorée. Après avoir reçu ses soins, le chevalier se lève, rétabli, et part avec la certitude que personne ne peut lui nuire après avoir été protégé par la sorcière. La chanson évoque ainsi le pouvoir de la magie et de la guérison dans un cadre féérique.

Le Chansonnier