Pale Arthur's Well

She saw cold stone in t’ moonlight, gorse and Dark wood ‘round the spring

Maiden hurry down the old way, before the mist creeps round the hill

He saw sandstone and dry bracken, silver springs from out th’ rock

Bound for Duckington you should be, when that summer moon stands still

There is no water on the plain, sweeter than Pale Arthur’s Well

Summertrees and hanging stone, Linemere Moss and Old Pale Heights

Battleaxe road will take you downward

Speed your steps on moonless nights

He lives unknown in bracken dells, high on gorse around the hills

Violets around a sandstone stream-bed, oak and ash over his head

Old Pale Arthur walking slowly, gazes down upon the path

Lifts his eyes when he hears your footsteps, listens keenly to what you’ve said

There is no water on the plain, sweeter than Pale Arthur’s Well

(trad.arr)