Sir Galahad
Never shall man take me hence
But only he by whose side
I ought to hang and he shall
Be the best knight in the world
Never shall man take me hence
But only he by whose side
I ought to hang and he shall
Be the best knight in the world
Taken from the castle feast
To an abbey in the East
Three knights stood in pride as one
Lancelot beheld his son
Arthur's court, he bade him come
Galahad his bastard son
Battles soon for him to fight
Blessed his youthful son a knight
Arthur and the knights' marvellous stone
Floating upon the river alone
Pointing from the rock, the sword shining bright
Glittering jewels, shimmering light
Pull me, pull me, pull me, pull me
Gawain first he tried to draw from the stone
To wear by his side
Each knight took his turn, brave to the last
Faced with the sword remaining fast
Arthur called a knight young Galahad
Saw in his sheath no sword he had
Took him where the sword held by the stone
Offered him there to make it his own
Pull me, pull me, pull me, pull me
He fell on his knees to pull out the hilt
And drew it with ease
The dolorous stroke it was struck with pride
The sword that once hung by Sir Balan's side
Sir GalahadLRC歌词
Never shall man take me hence
But only he by whose side
I ought to hang and he shall
Be the best knight in the world
Never shall man take me hence
But only he by whose side
I ought to hang and he shall
Be the best knight in the world
Taken from the castle feast
To an abbey in the East
Three knights stood in pride as one
Lancelot beheld his son
Arthur's court, he bade him come
Galahad his bastard son
Battles soon for him to fight
Blessed his youthful son a knight
Arthur and the knights' marvellous stone
Floating upon the river alone
Pointing from the rock, the sword shining bright
Glittering jewels, shimmering light
Pull me, pull me, pull me, pull me
Gawain first he tried to draw from the stone
To wear by his side
Each knight took his turn, brave to the last
Faced with the sword remaining fast
Arthur called a knight young Galahad
Saw in his sheath no sword he had
Took him where the sword held by the stone
Offered him there to make it his own
Pull me, pull me, pull me, pull me
He fell on his knees to pull out the hilt
And drew it with ease
The dolorous stroke it was struck with pride
The sword that once hung by Sir Balan's side
