(by Johnny Cash)
Written by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear.
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on! The prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange,
By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide
Until I find the holy Grail
.....said the lonesome pilgrim far from home