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
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
