The Witch of the Westmorland Chords by Stan Rogers

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Hail was the wounded [C] knight [G] that bore the rowan shield.
Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the [D] field,
Saying [G] back, water cold and [C] clear, we'll never clean [D] your wound.
[G] There's none but the witch of the West Maryland can make thee heal and soothe.
So turn, turn your stallion's head, till his red [C] mane flies in the wind,
[G] And the rider of the moon [C] goes by and the bright star falls [G] behind.
And clear was the pale moon when his shadow passed him by.
Below the hill were the [C] brightest stars when he [G] heard the owl cry,
Saying, why do you [C] ride this way [G] and wherefore [C] came you here?
[G] I seek the witch of the West [C] Maryland who dwells by the winding [D] mere.
And it's weary by the [C] owl's water [G] and the misty break [C]-fern way.
[G] Till through the cleft [D] of the Kirkston past [C] the winding [D] water lay.
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_ _ _ _ [D] He [G] said, lie down, ye [C] brindle-town, and rest ye, ye good [D] grey hawk,
And thee, my steed, may grace thy [C] fill for a mustous mountain walk.
[G] But come when you hear [G] my horn, and answer swift the call,
For I fear the sun will rise this morn, you will serve me [D] best of all.
[G] And it's down to the [C] water's brim [G] he's borne the rowan [D] shield,
And the golden rod he has cast [C] in to see what the [D] lake might yield.
And what rose she [C] from the lake, [G] and fast and fleet [C] went she,
[G] One half the form of a maiden [C] fair with a jet black mare's [D] body.
And [G] loud and long a [C] trill he blew, [G] till his steed was [C] by his side.
Aye, [G] he overhead [D] the grey hawk flew, [C] and swiftly he did [D] ride.
[G] Saying, horse, well be brindle-town, fetch me the [C] jet black mare,
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Stoop and strike me, good grey hawk, [C] and bring me the [D] maiden fair.
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_ _ _ [G] _ _ [D] She [G] said, pray she, [C] thy silvery sword, [G] lay down thy [D] rowan shield,
[G] For I see by the briny blood that flows you've been wounded in the [D] field.
And she stood in a gown of [C] the velvet blue, [G] bound round with [C] a silver chain,
[G] And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice, and three times round again.
And she's bound his womb with [C] the golden rod, [G] oh, how fast in her [C] arms he lay.
[G] And he has risen, hail, and soon will the sun rise in the day.
She said, ride with your brindle [C]-towns at the ear, [G] and your good grey [C] hawk in hand,
[G] There's Duncan Parm, the knight who slain with the witch of the [D] Westmerland.
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