Found it Don Quoxite

Through the woodland, through the valleyComes a horseman wild and freeTilting at the windmills passingWho can the brave young horseman beHe is wild but he is mellowHe is strong but he is weakHe is cruel but he is gentleHe is wise but he is meekReaching for his saddlebagHe takes a battered book into his handStanding like a prophet boldHe shouts across the ocean to the shoreTill he can shout no more
I have come o’er moor and mountainLike the hawk upon the wingI was once a shining knightWho was the guardian of a kingI have searched the whole world overLooking for a place to sleepI have seen the strong surviveAnd I have seen the lean grown weak
See the children of the earthWho wake to find the table bareSee the gentry in the countryRiding off to take the air
Reaching for his saddlebagHe takes a rusty sword into his handThen striking up a knightly poseHe shouts across the ocean to the shoreTill he can shout no more
See the jailor with his keyWho locks away all trace of sinSee the judge upon the benchWho tries the case as best he canSee the wise and wicked onesWho feed upon life’s sacred fireSee the soldier with his gunWho must be dead to be admired
See the man who tips the needleSee the man who buys and sellsSee the man who puts the collarOn the ones who dare not tellSee the drunkard in the tavernStemming gold to make ends meetSee the youth in ghetto blackCondemned to life upon the street
Reaching for his saddlebagHe takes a tarnished cross into his handThen standing like a preacher nowHe shouts across the ocean to the shoreThen in a blaze of tangled hoovesHe gallops off across the dusty plainIn vain to search againWhere no one will hear
Through the woodland, through the valleyComes a horseman wild and freeTilting at the windmills passingWho can the brave young horseman beHe is wild but he is mellowHe is strong but he is weakHe is cruel but he is gentleHe is wise but he is meek