Through the woodland, through the valley
Comes a horseman, wild and free
Tilting at the windmillspassing
Who can the brave young horseman be?
He is wild but he is mellow, he is strong but he is weak
He is cruel but he is gentle, he is wise but he is meek
Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a battered book into his hand
Standing like a prophet bold, he shouts across the ocean to the shore
'Til he can shout no more
I have come o'er moor and mountain, like the hawk upon the wing
I was once a shining knight, who was the guardian of a king
I have searched the whole world over, looking for a place to sleep
I have seen the strong survive and I have seen the lean grown weak
See the children of the earth, who wake to find the table bare
See the gentry in the country, riding off to take the air
Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a rusty sword into his hand
Then striking up a knightly pose, he shouts across the ocean to the shore
'Til he can shout no more
See the jailor with his key, who locks away all trace of sin
See the judge upon the bench, who tries the case as best he can
See the wise and wicked ones, who feed upon life's sacred fire
See the soldier with his gun, who must be dead to be admired
See the man who tips the needle, see the man who buys and sells
See the man who puts the collar, on the ones who dare not tell
See the drunkard in the tavern, stemming gold to make ends meet
See the youth in ghetto black, condemned to life upon the street
Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a tarnished cross into his hand
Then standing like a preacher now, he shouts across the ocean to the shore
Then in a blaze of tangled hooves, he gallops off across the dusty plain
In vain to search again, where no one will hear
Through the woodland, through the valley
Comes a horseman, wild and free
Tilting at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young horseman be?
He is wild but he is mellow, he is strong but he is weak
He is cruel but he is gentle, he is wise but he is meek