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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Through the woodland, the valley
Comes a horseman wild and
at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young be

He is wild but he is
He is but he is weak
He is but he is gentle
He is wise but he is

for his saddlebag
He takes a battered book his hand
Standing like a prophet
He shouts across the to the shore
he can shout no more

I have over moor and mountain
Like the upon the wing
I was once a shining
Who was the guardian of a

I have searched the world over
for a place to sleep
I seen the strong survive
And I have seen the grown weak

See the children of the
Who wake to find the table
See the gentry in the
off to take the air

Reaching for his
He takes a rusty sword his hand
Then striking up a pose
He shouts across the to the shore
Till he can no more

See the jailor his key
Who locks away all of sin
See the upon the bench
Who the case as best he can

See the wise and ones
Who feed upon sacred fire
See the with his gun
Who must be to be admired

See the man who tips the
See the man who and sells
See the man who puts the
On the who dare not tell

See the drunkard in the
Stemming gold to ends meet
See the youth in ghetto
Condemned to upon the street

Reaching for his
He takes a cross into his hand
Then standing a preacher now
He shouts the ocean to the shore
Then in a of tangled hooves
He gallops off the dusty plain
In to search again
Where no one will

Through the woodland, through the
a horseman wild and free
Tilting at the passing
Who can the young horseman be

He is but he is mellow
He is but he is weak
He is but he is gentle
He is wise but he is