This song was actually written by Archie Fisher, as I believe was Giant.
Doug Merrett
The Witch of the Westmorland
Archie Fisher
Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield
Loud and cruel were the raven'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 Westmorland can make thee hale and sound
So turn, turn your stallion's head til 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 his shadow passed him by
Below the hills were the brightest 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 Westmorland who dwells by the winding mere"
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way
Til through the cleft of the Kirkstone Pass the winding water lay
He said "Lie down, my brindled 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 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 goldenrod 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
And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side
High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly he did ride
Say "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair."
She said "Pray, sheathe 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 a gown of velvet blue, bound 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 goldenrod, full 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 brindled hound at heel and your good grey hawk in hand
There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the Westmorland"