The Witch of the Westmoreland

Stan Rogers

From http://artists.letssingit.com/stan-rogers-lyrics-witch-of-the-westmoreland-8wd896f

Pale was the wounded knight, that bore the rowan shield,
Loud and cruel were the ravens' cries that feasted on the field,
Saying "Bath water cold and clear will never clean your wound,
There's none but the Witch of the Westmoreland 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 paling moon when his shadow passed him by
Below the hill were the brightest stars when he heard the owl cry,

Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?"
"I seek the Witch of the Westmoreland that dwells by the winding mere."
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty Breakford way,
'Til through the cleft of the Kirkstone Pass the winding water lay.

He said "Lie down me brindled hound, and rest ye me 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 borne 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,
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."

Friday, August 19, 2005

Analysis of "Witch of the Westmereland"

A few years ago, I wrote music reviews for The Rising Wind magazine. This is one that I wrote at the time, though it turned more into an analysis of the lyrics than an actual music review, so it was never published. Still, I think it's interesting, so I'm going to share it with you now.

Many casual listeners assume that this ballad of a wounded knight seeking redemption and healing is an actual medieval piece, but it was written in the twentieth century by Archie Fisher. However, just like the great Arthurian tales, "Witch of the Westmereland" is written on two levels; a spiritual metaphor lies within a fantastic adventure.

At the song's outset, we meet our hero, a knight who is wounded and battle-weary; he could be a veteran of virtually any war in any era, and his war need not have been literal. Visitations from animal guides including ravens (sacred to Odin) and a hare (sacred to Eostre) inform him that his wounds cannot be healed by any normal means. His are spiritual wounds which will require supernatural healing. Both creatures direct him to seek out the "maid who dwells by the winding mere." An owl (sacred to Athena and a symbol of wisdom) further instructs the knight in the method of finding the witch he seeks: He must cast goldenrod into the witch's lake.

Throughout his adventures, the knight is aided by the three companions traditional to a knight: his horse, his hawk, and his hounds. In medieval folklore, these were often seen as extensions of the knight himself, symbols of his skill and strength. So it is significant that our hero tells them to wait behind as he approaches the mere. Like every spiritual seeker, he has to set aside his own ego and accomplishments before he can approach his subconscious, the gateway to Divine power.

However, as he approaches the mere, it's interesting to note that the knight bears the four magical tools with him. His sword and shield are at his side, his horn is ready should he need to summon his hounds, and the goldenrod he needs to summon the witch fills the role of the phallic wand. Of course, we don't need Freud to point out the significance of the knight placing his goldenrod in the witch's lake.

The knight's shield is of particular interest. Every time it is mentioned, from the second line on, it's referred to as "the rowan shield." Now, traditionally, shields were made from lindenwood, and poets dating back to the Beowulf period have consistently talked about linden shields. Rowan, on the other hand, is often associated with warding off magic. Could it be that this knight is not only spiritually wounded but also has built up shields that cut him off from the magical possibilities of the world?

In any case, once the knight uses the goldenrod to perform the Great Rite Symbolic on the lake, the witch springs forth from the water like a mystical revelation emerging from a seeker's subconscious. Unexpectedly, the witch has a centaurian form, half-maiden and half-horse; she represents the union of the human being with nature. The knight blows his horn to recall his helpful beasts, for he will need all of his faculties to catch the witch once she has entered this realm.

When at length the half-horse witch is apprehended by the knight's hounds and hawk, she transforms entirely into a maiden, clad in blue and silver as she stands in the moonlight. She commands the knight to sheathe his sword and lay down his shield. Once he has abandoned the aggression (or alternatively the logic) of the sword and the defensiveness of the shield, she kisses him three times; thus the knight is blessed by all three aspects of the Goddess. She then binds his wounds with the goldenrod, showing him that he has had the capacity to heal himself all along. Finally, he lies in her arms, achieving the Great Rite of union with the Divine Source. As the sun rises, he likewise rises from her embrace, not only fully healed, but also made invincible, for "none can harm the knight who's lain with the witch of the Westmereland."

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posted by Cedric @ 1:14 PM