I thought Don Quixote was a Gordon Lightfoot song:

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

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
Till 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
Till he can shout no more

See the jailer 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



when the old knight rode
his spirit faltered not
were i to shoulder such a task
i fear twould be forgot
a peer of william shakespear
miguel de cervantes saavedra
who knew a prison chain
from a heart string
was don quixotes ghost
or creator as you wish
when the old knight rode
he was not afraid to bleed
for me to take on such a load
is more than i should need
but from my drift of song
shall come
a bit of that old spirit there
whether it be strings or chains
that bind you
i hope this finds you
well
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

gl