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,
Saying "Course well, me brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare!
Stoop and strike, me 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 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 hale and sound with the sun high in the day.
She said "Ride with your brindled hounds at heel, and your good grey hawk
in hand,
There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the
Westmoreland."
(
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nxls6...=results_video )
Wow! I dreamed this song last night in full color! Wonderful feeling!
Good morning, all! Tuesday promises severe thunderstorms so I need to get myself somewhere underground where I can take my walk today. Plenty of choices... Osaka has miles and miles of underground shopping arcades. But first a mug of Ahmad's "English Breakfast" tea, a little rice and a few olives to start the day. My wife came home early yesterday morning so before lunch we went for a 5k walk around our neighborhood but it was so hot, we had to stop twice to re-water!
Stitchawl