The Lover's Cairn
The tower of stone stood watching,
Am Em
There was ice on the darkling road,
Am Em
But there, a man in shining helm,
F C
Yes, there, a man beneath the elm,
F C
Stepped forth through the winter's cold.
Am Em Am
Alt chord set:
The tower of stone stood watching,
C G
There was ice on the darkling road,
C G
But there, a man in shining helm,
Am Em
Yes, there, a man beneath the elm,
Am Em
Stepped forth through the winter's cold.
Am Em Am
The tower of stone stood watching,
There was ice on the darkling road,
But there, a man in shining helm,
Yes, there, a man beneath the elm,
Stepped forth through the winter's cold.
He'd a coat of shining ring-mail,
A bright sword hung at his side,
And there, up to the wall he'd call,
That there, the tower of stone should fall,
And he would claim his bride.
The tower of stone stood watching,
As the man his challenge roared,
And there, her face at the window,
Her hair like a veil of dark shadow,
And the young man's heart it soared.
He slew the guards at the gate-post,
He flew like a bird through the air,
Where there, a pillar cold as bone,
'midst elmwood beams held the tower's stone,
And his love was imprisoned there.
The castellan knew he was coming,
And thought him the maid to slay,
For envy rose within his heart,
That others loved where he could not,
Upon that bitterest day.
He smote her once with his spear-point,
Her hot blood ran at her breast,
But there, she'd a knife by her bedside,
A hidden blade for a stolen bride,
And stabbed him through the chest,
She dropped the knife in the chamber,
And her dress blooded and torn
And down she ran from the lamplight,
And down she ran to the cold night,
And called for her love and the morn
But he came up another staircase,
And saw the bloodied stains,
The castellan showed him the spear-head
And there, rags soaked in blood-red
And told him she was slain.
With a roar he set flames round him,
With a roar the pillar he smote
See there, fire glinting on his helm,
Yes, there, new cracks in stone and elm,
As it blackened his fine mail coat.
There's a pile of stones by the roadway,
A charred and blackened tomb,
And sometimes a white-haired lady,
A winter snow-haired lady,
An old and wistful lady,
Comes and weeps for her love and his doom.
I've got my guitar back and have been noodling around on it - I've been attempting to do some sort folky composition of your moonlight silks poem. I'm not a professional or anything but I'll send it to you once I'm happy with it, see what you think.
Lovely! I've got my own tune for it too but I'm super interested/excited to see what you come up with