[Verse 1]
Pale was the wounded knight
That bore the rowan shield
And loud and cruel were the raven's cries
As he feasted on the field
"Green moss and heather bands
Will never staunch the flood
There's none but the Witch o' the Westmorland
Can save thy dear life's blood"

[Verse 2]
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 paley moon
When shadow passed him by
And below the hill were the brightest stars
When he heard the owlet cry

[Verse 3]
Saying, "Why do you ride this way
And wherefore came you here?"
"I seek the Witch o' the Westmorland
Who dwells by the winding mere
And it's weary by the Ullswater
And misty the brake fern way
Till through the cleft of the Kirkstone pass
The winding water lay"
[Verse 4]
And he said, "Lie down my bridled hound
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 when the sun will rise this morn
You'll serve me best of all"

[Instrumental Break]

[Verse 5]
And it's down to the water's brim
He's borne the rowan shield
And the golden 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 maiden fair
With a jet black mare's body

[Verse 6]
And loud, long and shrill he blew
Till his steed was by his side
High overhead the grey hawk flew
And swiftly he did ride
Saying, "Course well my brindled hound
And fetch me the jet black mare
And stoop and strike my good grey hawk
And bring me the maiden fair"
[Verse 7]
And she said, "Pray sheath thy silvery sword
Lay down thy rowan shield
For I see by the briny blood that flows
You're wounded in the field"
She stood in a gown of velvet blue
Bound round with a silver chain
And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice
And three times round again

[Verse 8]
And she's bound his wounds with a golden rod
Full fast in her arms he lay
And he has risen whole and sound
With the sun high in the day
And she said, "Ride with your brindled hound
And your good grey hawk in hand
For there's none can harm the knight whose lain
With the Witch o' the Westmorland
No, there's none can harm the knight whose lain
With the Witch o' the Westmorland"