Tuesday, August 11, 2026 · 天火 · tianmu.org

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. 3 — Francis James Child

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by Francis James Child (1882–1898)

Francis James Child (1825–1896) was a professor of English at Harvard and one of the founders of American literary scholarship. Between 1882 and 1898 he published “The English and Scottish Popular Ballads,” the critical edition that gathered every traditional English and Scottish ballad he could locate — 305 numbered ballads in all — together with every distinct manuscript or printed text (“version”) of each one that he judged worth preserving, drawn from over fifty manuscripts and several hundred printed sources. The collection has no rival in scope: it remains the standard reference for the English-language ballad tradition, and its ballads are still cited today simply by “Child number” — Child 1 through Child 305.

This is Volume 3 of a five-volume Good Works Library edition, covering ballads 100 through 157, from “100. Willie o Winesberry” to “157. Gude Wallace.” Each ballad appears under its Child number and title, with every version the source etext preserves, each version's manuscript or print source note, and Child's own bracketed textual insertions and dot-and-asterisk markers for passages missing or illegible in the original manuscripts, all left exactly as the source has them.

This edition is prepared from the local sacred-texts.com mirror's digitization of the ballad texts, not from a fresh transcription of Child's print volumes. The mirror's own index page states plainly that “the ultimate Child ballad etext has yet to be constructed” and that its text, assembled from a University of Colorado ballad corpus rather than scanned page images, “lacks the apparatus and, apparently, some of the variations of the original text, and has some lacunae and glitches.” The Colophon below states exactly what that means for this volume.

Contents

100. Willie o Winesberry

Version A

1 THE king he hath been a prisoner,
A prisoner lang in Spain, O
And Willie o the Winsbury
Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O

2 ‘What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,
Ye look so pale and wan?
Have ye had any sore sickness,
Or have ye been lying wi a man?
Or is it for me, your father dear,
And biding sae lang in Spain?’

3 ‘I have not had any sore sickness,
Nor yet been lying wi a man;
But it is for you, my father dear,
In biding sae lang in Spain.’

4 ‘Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,
Stand straight upon the stone,
That I may ken ye by yere shape,
Whether ye be a maiden or none.’

5 She’s coosten off her berry-brown gown,
Stooden straight upo yon stone;
Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,
Her face it was pale and wan.

6 ‘Is it to a man o might, Janet?
Or is it to a man of fame?
Or is it to any of the rank robbers
That’s lately come out o Spain?’

7 ‘It is not to a man of might,’ she said,
‘Nor is it to a man of fame;
But it is to William of Winsburry;
I could lye nae langer my lane.’

8 The king’s called on his merry men all,
By thirty and by three:
‘Go fetch me William of Winsbury,
For hanged he shall be.’

9 But when he cam the king before,
He was clad o the red silk;
His hair was like to threeds o gold.
And his skin was as white as milk.

10 ‘It is nae wonder,’ said the king,
‘That my daughter’s love ye did win;
Had I been a woman, as I am a man,
My bedfellow ye should hae been.

11 ‘Will ye marry my daughter Janet,
By the truth of thy right hand?
I’ll gie ye gold, I’ll gie ye money,
And I’ll gie ye an earldom o land.’

12 ‘Yes, I’ll marry yere daughter Janet,
By the truth of my right hand;
But I’ll hae nane o yer gold, I’ll hae nane o yer money,
Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.

13 ‘For I hae eighteen corn-mills,
Runs all in water clear,
And there’s as much corn in each o them
As they can grind in a year.’

Version B

100 * * *
‘WHAT aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,
Ye look sae pale and wan?
Hae ye had ony sair sickness,
Or ill luve wi a man?

2 ‘Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,
And lay’t down on the stane,
And I sall tell ye ay or no
Ye hae layn wi a man.’

3 She has taen aff her bony brown gown,
She has laid it on the stane;
Her waist was big, her side was round,
Her fair colour was gane.

4 ‘Now is it to a man of micht,
Or to a man of mean?
Or is it to the ranke robber
That robs upon the main?’

5 ‘O it’s nor to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of mean;
But it’s to Willie Winchberrie,
That came frae France and Spain.’

6 The king he’s turnd him round about,
An angry man was he:
‘Gar bring to me your fals leman,
Wha sall high hanged be.’

7 Then Dysmill turnd her round about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘Gin ye begin to hang, father,
Ye maun begin wi mee.’

8 When Willie he cam to the king,
His coat was o the silk;
His hair was like the thread o gowd,
His skin white as the milk.

9 ‘Ne wonder, ne wonder,’ quoth the king,
‘My dochter shoud like ye;
Gin ye were a woman, as ye’re a man,
My bedfellow ye sould be.

10 ‘Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
By the truth o your right hand?
Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
And be a lord o the land?’

Version C

1 THE king has been long seven years away,
Long seven years away frae hame;
Our king has been long seven years away,
A hunting oer in Spain.

2 ‘What aileth thee, my ae daughter,
Thou lookst so pale and wan?
Hast thou had any sore sickness,
Or hast thou loved man?’

3 ‘I have not had any sore sickness,
To make me look sae wan;
But it is for your own majestie,
You staid sae lang in Spain.’

4 ‘Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,
And lay it on yon stane,
And I’ll tell to thee if with child you be,
Or if ye be with nane.’

5 She’s casten aff her costly gown,
That’s made o the silk sae fine;
Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,
And her fair colour was wan.

6 ‘Oh is it to any mighty man?
Or any lord of fame?
Or is it to the rank robbers
That I sent out o Spain?’

7 ‘It is no to the rank robbers
That you sent out o Spain;
But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,
For I dought na lie my lane.’

8 ‘If it be to Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘It’s hanged shall he be:’
‘If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,
You’ll get na mair gude o me.’

9 The king’s called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and three;
Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

10 ‘No wonder, no wonder,’ the king he said,
‘My daughter loved thee;
For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man,
My bedfellow thou shouldst be.

11 ‘O will you marry my daughter dear,
By the faith of thy right hand?
And thou shalt reign, when I am dead,
The king over my whole land.’

12 ‘I will marry your daughter dear,
With my heart, yea and my hand;
But it never shall be that Lord Winsbury
Shall rule oer fair Scotland.’

13 He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on a dapple-grey,
And made her a lady of as much land
She could ride in a whole summer day.

Version D

1 THERE was a lady fine and gay,
She was so neat and trim;
She went unto her own garden-wall,
To see her own ships come in.

2 And there she spied her daughter Jane,
Who lookd so pale and wan:
‘What, have you had some long sickness,
Or lain with some young man?’

3 ‘No, I have had no long sickness,
Nor lain with no young man:’
Her petticoats they were so short,
She was full nine months gone.

4 ‘Oh is it by some nobleman?
Or by some man of fame?
Or is it by Johnny Barbary,
That’s lately come from Spain?’

5 ‘No, it is by no nobleman,
Nor by no man of fame;
But it is by Johnny Barbary,
That’s lately come from Spain.’

6 Then she calld down her merry men,
By one, by two, by three;
Johnny Barbary used to be the first,
But now the last came he.

7 ‘Oh will you take my daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand?
And you shall dine and sup with me,
And be heir of my land.’

8 ‘Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand;
And I will dine and sup with you,
But I do not want your land.’

9 Then she calld down her merry men,
With a shrill and a pleasant voice:
‘Come, let us all now mery be,
Since she has made such a happy choice.’

Version E

100 * * *
‘OH daughter, oh daughter,’ her father he said,
‘What makes you look so pale?
. . . . .
Or are you in love with any man?’

2 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘But if it be one of my own sailor lads,
High hanged he shall be.’

3 Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair,
His shirt was of the silk;
His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head,
And his skin was as white as milk.

4 ‘Oh are you ready to marry my daughter,
And take her by the hand,
And to eat and drink with me at the table,
And be heir of all my land?’

5 ‘Oh it’s I am ready to marry your daughter,
And take her by the hand,
And to eat and drink with her at the table,
And to fight for all your land.’

Version F

1 OUR king hath been a poor prisoner,
And a poor prisoner in Spain; O
When seven long years was past and gone,
Our Scotish king came hame.O

2 As he was riding along the way,
He met with his dear dochter:
‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear,
Thou looks so pale and wan?

3 ‘Have ye had any sore sickness,
Or have ye lovd a man?
Or is it for me, my dochter dear,
I have been so long in Spain?’

4 ‘I have had no sore sickness,
Nor yet have I loved a man;
But it is for you, my father dear,
Thou’ve been so long in Spain.’

5 ‘Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown,
And spread it on yonder stone,
And I will tell you by and by
Whether thou art a maid or none.’

6 She’s coosten off her brown silk gown,
And spread it on yonder stone,
And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan,
And she was about half gone.

7 ‘Is it to a man o micht?
Or to a man of fame?
Or is it to one of the rank rebels
That I sent out of Spain?’

8 ‘It is not to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of fame,
Nor yet to one of the rank rebels
That ye sent out o Spain;
But it is to Willie o Winsberry,
Thy very own serving-man.’

9 ‘If it be to Willie o Winsberry,
As I trew well it be,
Gin the morn at ten o the clock
It’s hanged shall he be.’

10 As the king was riding up the gate
He met Willie clothed in scarlet red,
And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold,
And his breast as white as milk.

11 ‘No wonder, no wonder,’ quo the king,
‘My dochter luvit thee;
For if thou was a woman, as thou’rt a man,
My bedfellow thou should be.’

12 The king called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man drew he.

13 ‘Will you take my dochter Jean,
By the faith of her richt hand?
And you shall sup and dine with me,
And heir the third part of my land.’

14 ‘I will take your dochter Jean,
By the faith of her richt hand,
And I will sup and dine with you,
But a fig for all your land;
For I’ve as much land in Winsberry
As we’ll ride in a long summer’s day.’

Version G

1 SEVEN years the king he staid
Into the land of Spain,
And seven years True Thomas was
His daughter’s chamberlain.

2 But it fell ance upon a day
The king he did come home;
She baked and she benjed ben,
And did him there welcome.

3 ‘What aileth you, my daughter Janet,
You look sae pale and wan?
There is a dreder in your heart,
Or else you love a man.’

4 ‘There is no dreder in my heart,
Nor do I love a man;
But it is for your lang byding
Into the land of Spain.’

5 ‘Ye’ll cast aff your bonny brown gown,
And lay it on a stone,
And I’ll tell you, my jelly Janet,
If ever ye lovd a man.’

6 She’s cast aff her bonny brown gown,
And laid it on a stone;
Her belly was big, her twa sides high,
Her colour it was quite gane.

7 ‘Is it to a man o the might, Janet,
Or is it till a man o the main?
Or is it to one o my poor soldiers,
That I brought hame frae Spain?’

8 ‘It’s not till a man o the might,’ she says,
‘Nor yet to a man o the main;
But it’s to Thomas o Winsbury,
That cannot longer len.’

9 ‘O where are all my wall-wight men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That will go for him True Thomas,
And bring him in to me?
For the morn, ere I eat or drink,
High hanged shall he be.’

10 She’s turnd her right and round about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘If ye do any ill to True Thomas,
Ye’se never get gude o me.’

11 When Thomas came before the king
He glanced like the fire;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His eyes like crystal clear.

12 ‘It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
Altho ye loved this man;
If he were a woman, as he is a man,
My bed-fellow he would been.

13 ‘O will ye marry my daughter Janet?
The truth’s in your right hand;
Ye’s hae some o my gold, and some o my gear,
And the twalt part o my land.’

14 ‘It’s I will marry your daughter Janet;
The truth’s in my right hand;
I’ll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear,
I’ve enough in my own land.

15 ‘But I will marry your daughter Janet
With thirty ploughs and three,
And four and twenty bonny breast-mills,
And a’ on the water o Dee.’

Version H

1 IT fell upon a time, when the proud king of France
Went a hunting for five months and more,
That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,
From Scotland newly come oer.

2 Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,
And his dochter before him cam,
Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,
And her fair colour was wan.

3 ‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?
What makes thee to look sae wan?
Ye’ve either been sick, and very, very sick,
Or else ye hae lain wi a man.’

4 ’re welcome, ye’re welcome, dear father,’ she says,
‘Ye’re welcome hame to your ain,
For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,
Thinking lang for your coming hame.

5 ‘O pardon, O pardon, dear father,’ she says,
‘A pardon ye’ll grant me:’
‘Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,’ he says,
‘Na pardon I’ll grant thee.

6 ‘O is it to a man of micht,
Or to a man of mean?
Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers
That I sent hame frae Spain?’

7 ‘It is not to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of mean;
But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,
And for him I suffer pain.’

8 ‘If it be to Thomas o’ Winesberrie,
As I trust well it be,
Before I either eat or drink,
Hie hangit sall he be.’

9 When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,
His claithing was o the silk,
His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,
And his skin was like the milk.

10 ‘Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘My dochter fell in love wi thee,
For if I war a woman, as I am a man,
My bed-fellow ye shoud be.

11 ‘Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,
To be heir to a’ my land?
O will ye marry my dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o your richt hand?’

12 ‘I will marry your dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o my richt hand;
I’ll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,
I’ve eneuch in fair Scotland.

13 ‘But I will marry your dochter Janet,
I care na for your land,
For she’s be a queen, and I a king,
Whan we come to fair Scotland.’

Version I

1 IT fell upon a time that the proud king of France
Went a hunting for five months and more;
His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,
Who from Scotland was newly come oer.

2 ‘You’re welcome, welcome, dear father,’ she said,
‘You’re welcome again to your own;
For I have been sick, and very, very sick,
Thinking long for your coming home.’

3 ‘Put off, put off your gown of green,’ he says,
‘And spread it on yonder green,
And tell them from me that in mourning you are,
Or that he have lain with a man.’

4 She’s put off her gown of green,
And spread it on the strand;
Her haunches were round, and her belly was big,
From her face the colour is gone.

5 ‘O is it to a man of might,’ he says,
‘Or is it to a man that’s mean?
Or is it to one of those rank rebels,
That lately from Scotland came?’

6 ‘O it is to a man of might,’ she says,
‘It is not to one that is mean;
It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
And for him I must suffer pain.’

7 The king called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three:
‘Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
For tomorrow he shall die.’

8 They sought him up, they sought him down,
As fast as fast could be;
There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
Sitting under an orange tree.

9 ‘Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,’ they said,
‘Get up, and bound your way;
For the king has sworn by his honoured crown
That tomorrow is thy dying-day.’

10 ‘O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen,
Or what have I killed or slain,
That I should be afraid to speak to your king?
For I have done him no wrong.’

11 Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,
His cloathing was of the silk;
His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,
His skin was white as the milk.

12 And when he came before the king
He kneeled down on his knee;
Says, What is your will with me, my liege,
What is your will with me?

13 ‘I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘That my daughter fell in love with thee;
If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man,
My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.

14 ‘Will ye marry my daughter Jean,
By the faith of thy right hand?
Thou’se have part of my gold, part of my gear,
And a third part of my land.’

15 ‘Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean,
By the faith of my right hand;
I’ll have none of your gold, none of your gear;
I have enough in fair Scotland.’

16 He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on a dapple-grey;
He’s got as much land in fair Scotland
As they can ride in a summer’s day.

101. Willie o Couglas Dale

Version A

1 O WILLY was as brave a lord
As ever saild the sea,
And he has gane to the English court,
To serve for meat and fee.

2 He had nae been at the kingis court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till he longd for a sight o the king’s daughter,
But ane he coud never see.

3 O it fell ance upon a day
To the green wood she has gane,
An Willy he has followd her,
With the clear light o the moon.

4 He looted him low, by her did go,
Wi his hat intill his hand:
‘O what’s your will wi me, Sir Knight?
I pray keep your hat on.’

5 ‘O I am not a knight, Madam,
Nor never thinks to be;
For I am Willy o Douglassdale,
An I serve for meat and fee.’

6 ‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
‘An sigh baith even an morn
That ever I saw your face, Willy,
Or that ever ye was born.

7 ‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
‘An I’ll pray baith night an day,
To keep me frae your tempting looks,
An frae your great beauty.’

8 O in a little after that
He keepit Dame Oliphant’s bowr,
As the love that passd between this twa,
It was like paramour.

9 ‘O narrow, narrow’s my gown, Willy,
That wont to be sae wide;
An short, short is my coats, Willy,
That wont to be sae side;
An gane is a’ my fair colour,
An low laid is my pride.

10 ‘But an my father get word of this,
He’ll never drink again;
An gin my mother get word of this,
In her ain bowr she’ll go brain;
An gin my bold brothers get word this,
I fear, Willy, you’ll be slain.’

11 ‘O will you leave your father’s court,
An go along wi me?
I’ll carry you unto fair Scotland,
And mak you a lady free.’

12 She pat her han in her pocket
An gae him five hunder poun:
‘An take you that now, Squire Willy,
Till awa that we do won.’

13 Whan day was gane, and night was come,
She lap the castle-wa;
But Willy kepit his gay lady,
He was laith to let her fa.

14 Whan night was gane, an day come in,
An lions gaed to their dens,
An ay the lady followd him,
An the tears came hailing down.

15 ‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your shoone?
Or want ye as meickle dear bought love
As your ain heart can contain?’

16 ‘I want nae ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses till my shoone;
An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love!
I have mair nor I can contain.’

17 O he’s pu’d the oak in good green wood,
An he’s made to her a fire;
He coverd it oer wi withred leaves,
An gard it burn thro ire.

18 He made a bed i the good green wood,
An he’s laid his lady down,
An he’s coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves,
But an his ain night-gown.

19 ‘O had I a bunch o yon red roddins,
That grows in yonder wood,
But an a drink o water clear,
I think it woud do me good.’

20 He’s pu’d her a bunch o yon red roddins,
That grew beside yon thorn,
But an a drink o water clear,
Intill his hunting-horn.

21 He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer,
An thro the green wood gane,
An ere that he came back again
His lady took travailing.

22 ‘O up ye tak that horn,’ she says,
‘An ye blaw a blast for me;
Gin my father be in good green wood,
Sae seen’s he’ll come me ti.’

23 ‘O gin there be a man on earth
That ye loo better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
‘For it’s never be blawn by me.’

24 O he’s bent his bow, an shot the deer,
An thro the green wood has he gane,
An lang or he came back again
His lady bare him a son.

25 O up has he tane his bonny young son,
An washn him wi the milk,
An up has he tane his gay lady,
An rowd her i the silk.

26 He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer,
An thro the green wood has he gane,
Till he met wi a well-fard may,
Her father’s flock feeding.

27 ‘Ye leave your father’s flock feeding,
An go along wi me;
I’ll carry you to a lady fair,
Will gi you both meat and fee.’

28 O whan she came the lady before,
She’s fa’n down on her knee:
‘O what’s your will wi me, my dame?
An a dame you seem to be.’

29 ‘O I’m Dame Oliphant, the king’s daughter,
Nae doubt but ye’ve heard o me;
Will you leave your father’s flock feeding,
An go to Scotlan wi me?

30 ‘An ye sal get a nouriship
Intill an earldome,
An I will gar provide for the
To marry some brave Scotsman.’

31 The may she keepit the bonny boy,
An Willy led his lady,
Untill they took their fair shippin,
Then quickly hame came they.

32 The win was fair, an the sea was clear,
An they a’ wan safe to lan;
He’s haild her lady of Douglassdale,
Himsel the lord within.

Version B

1 WILLIE was an earl’s ae son,
And an earl’s ae son was he,
But he thought his father lack to sair,
And his mother of low degree.

2 But he is on to fair England,
To sair for meat an fee,
And all was for Dame Oliphant,
A woman of great beauty.

3 He hadna been in fair England
A month but barely ane,
Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
Gied him a gay gold ring.

4 He hadna been in fair England
A month but barely four,
Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
Gied him a red rose flower,
Well set about with white lilies,
Like to the paramour.

5 It fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang,
And she gaed on to good green wood,
As fast as she could gang.

6 As Willie stood in his chamber-door,
And as he thought it good,
There he beheld Dame Oliphant,
As she came thro the wood.

7 He’s taen his bow his arm oer,
His sword into his hand,
And he is on to good green wood,
As fast as he could gang.

8 And there he found Dame Oliphant,
Was lying sound asleep,
And aye the sounder she did sleep
The nearer he did creep.

9 But when she wakend from her sleep
An angry maid was she,
Crying, Had far away frae me, young man,
Had far away frae me!
For I fear ye are the Scottish knight
That beguiles young ladies free.

10 ‘I am not the Scottish knight,
Nor ever thinks to be;
I am but Willie o Douglass Dale,
That serves for meat an fee.’

11 ‘If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale,
Ye’re dearly welcome to me;
For oft in my sleep have I thought on
You and your merry winking ee.’

12 But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
And the lions took the hill,
And Willie he gaed hame again,
To his hard task and till;
And likewise did Dame Oliphant,
To her book and her seam.

13 Till it fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang,
And she went on to Willie’s bower-yates,
As fast as she could gang.

14 ‘O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie?
O are you asleep?’ said she;
O waken, waken, Squire Willie,
O waken, and speak to me.

15 ‘For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie,
They winna meet on me,
And the coats that were oer side, Willie,
They winna come to my knee;
And if the knights of my father’s court get word,
I’m sure they’ll gar you die.’

16 But she’s taen a web of the scarlet,
And she tare it fine an sma,
And even into Willie’s arms
She leapt the castle-wa;
And Willie was wight and well able,
And he keept her frae a fa.

17 But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
And the lions took the hill,
And Willie’s ladie followed him,
And the tears did twinkle still.

18 ‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your sheen?
Or want ye chains about your neck?
Ye’se get mair ere that be deen.’

19 ‘I want not ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses to my sheen,
And there’s mair chains about my neck
Nor ever I’ll see deen;
But I have as much dear bought love
As my heart can contain.’

20 ‘Will ye go to the cards or dice?
Or to the table ee?
Or to a bed, so well down spread,
And sleep till it be day?’

21 I’ve mair need of the roddins, Willie,
That grow on yonder thorn;
Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
Out of your grass-green horn.

22 ‘I’ve mair need of a fire, Willie,
To had me frae the cauld;
Likewise a glass of your red wine,
Ere I bring my son to the fauld.’

23 He’s got a bush o roddins till her,
That grows on yonder thorn;
Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
Out of his grass-green horn.

24 He carried the match in his pocket
That kindled to her the fire,
Well set about wi oaken spells,
That leamd oer Lincolnshire.

25 And he has bought to his lady
The white bread and the wine;
And the milk he milked from the goats,
He fed his young son on.

26 Till it fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang:
‘O gin ye hae a being, Willie,
I pray ye hae me hame.’

27 He’s taen his young son in his arms,
His lady by the hand,
And they’re down thro good green wood,
As fast as they could gang.

28 Till they came to a shepherd-may,
Was feeding her flocks alone;
Said, Will ye gae alang wi me,
And carry my bonny young son?

29 The gowns that were shapen for my back,
They shall be sewd for thine;
And likewise I’ll gar Squire Willie
Gie you a braw Scotsman.

30 When they came on to Willie’s bower-yates,
And far beyont the sea,
She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale,
And Willie an earl to be:
Likewise the maid they brought awa,
She got a braw Scotsman.

Version C

1 SWEET Sir William of Douglas Dale,
A knight’s ae son was he;
He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant,
Lang ere he did her see.

2 He dreamed a woman of great beauty
Gave him a red rose flower,
Well busket about wi the lillies white,
Just like the paramour.

3 O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,
A knight’s ae son was he,
And he is on to the king’s high court,
To serve for meat and fee.

4 Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
Tied in a towal so white,
And that she has given her Lord William,
Out oer the castle-dyke.

5 Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
Tied in a towel sae sma,
And that she has given her own true-love,
Out ore the castle-wa.

6 She rowed hersell in a robe o silk,
To loup the castle-wa;
He ceppet her in his armes twa,
And he let not her get a fa.

7 The cocks do craw, and the day does daw,
And the wild fowl bodes on hill;
The lassie she followed her Sweet William,
And let the tears down fall.

8 ‘O want you ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your sheen?
Or want ye as much of feel daft love
As your heart can contain?’

9 ‘I want nor ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses to my sheen;
I’ve got as much o dear bought love
As my heart can contain.’

10 He carried a flint in his pocket,
And he strack to her a fire,
And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak,
And gart it burn wi ire.

11 He’s taen his big coat him about,
And his gun into his hand,
And he has gone to good green wood,
To kill some venison.

12 He’s taen his big coat him about,
And his gun into his han,
But lang ere he came back again
She bare his dear young son.

13 He rowed her in his muckle coat,
But in his good night-gown,
And he fed her wi the good goat-milk,
Till she was well able to gang.

14 He’s taen his young son in his arm,
His lady in his hand,
And they are down thro good green wood,
As fast as they can gang.

15 And they came to a shepherd’s daughter,
Was feeding at her sheep;
Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale,
Wi my yong son to keep?

16 O I will gee you gold, maiden,
And I will gee you fee,
Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale,
Wi my yong son and me.

17 She’s taen his young son in her arm,
And kissed baith cheek and chin;
Says, I will go to Douglas Dale,
As fast as I can win.

18 He’s taen his big coat him about,
And his lady in his hand,
And they are off to Douglas Dale,
As fast as they can gang.

19 And when they came to Douglas Dale
A happy man was he,
For his lady, and his young son,
And his nurse, a’ three.

Version D

1 Willie was a rich man’s son,
A rich man’s son was he;
Hee thought his father lake to sair,
An his mother of mine digree,
An he is on to our English court,
To serve for meatt an fee.

2 He hadno ben in our king’s court
A tuall-month an a day,
Till he fell in love we Mary, Dem [Ele]fon,
An a great buity was she.

3 He hadno ben in our king’s court
A tuall-month an a houre,
Till he dreamed a lady of buty bright
Gave him a rosey flour.

4 The lady touk her mantell her about,
Her gooun-teall in her hand,
An she is on to gued grean woud,
As fast as she could gang.

5 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
An ther she spayed a gellant knight,
Kamen his yallou hear.

6 ‘What is yer name, sir knight?
For a knight I am sure ye be;’
‘I am called Willie of Duglas Dall,
Did ye never hear of me?’
‘If ye be Willie of Duglass Daill,
I afft have heard of thee.’

7 ‘What is yer name, ye lovely dame?
For a lady I trou ye be;’
‘I am called Mary, Dem Elefond,
Did ye never hear of me?’

8 ‘In ye be Mary, Dem Elefon,
As I trust well ye be,
. . . . . . .
My heart ye haa ye we.’

9 The lady was fair an rear,
The knight’s heart had she;
The knight was tall an straght withall,
The lady’s hart had he.

10 It fell ance upon a day
Dem Elofen thought lang,
An she is on to Willie’s bour,
As fast as she could gang.

11 ‘Narrou is my pettecot, Willie,
It ance was saa wide,
An narrou is my stays, Willie,
Att ance wer saa wide,
An paill is my chikes, Willie,
An laigh, laigh is my pride.

12 ’. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
An the knights of my father’s court gat word of this,
I feer they wad gare ye diee.’

13 He touke . . . . . . . . .
The lady by the hand,
An they are one to gued green woud,
As fast as they coud gang.

14 It fell ance upon a day
Strong travileng came her tell,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

15 ‘Ye take your boue on yer shoulder,
Yer arrous in yer hand,
An ye gaa farr throu green woud,
An shout some veneson.

16 ‘Fan ye hear me loud cray,
Bide far awaa fra me,
Bat fan ye hear me laying still
Ye may come back an see.’

17 Fan he hard her loud cray,
He bad far awaa,
Bat fan he heard her laying still
He did come an see,
An he got her
An her young son her wee.

18 He milked the goats,
An feed his young son wee,
And he made a fire of the oken speals,
An warmed his lady wee.

19 It fell ance upon a day
The lady though[t] lang:
‘An ye haa any place in fair Scotland, Willie,
I wiss ye wad haa me hame.’

20 ’. . . . . . .
I ha lands an reants saa friee,
The bonny lands of Duglass Daill,
They a’ lay bread an friee.’

21 He’s taen the knight-bairn in his arms,
His lady by the hand,
An he is out throu gued green woud,
As fast as they coud gang.

22 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
Till they came to a maid kepping her goats,
. . . . . . . .

23 ‘Hall , ye maid,
For a maid ye seem to be;
Will ye live your goats kepping
An goo we me?

24 ‘I cannot live my father, I canno live my midder,
Nor yet my brethren three;
I cannot live my goats kepping,
An goo along we the.

25 ‘Fatt is your name, ye lovely dame?
For a lady I am shour ye be;’
‘I am called Mary, Dem Elifond,
Did ye nver hear of me?’

26 ‘If ye be Mary, Dem Elifond,
As I trust weel ye be,
I will live my goats kepping
An goo along we the.

27 ‘For I will live my father, an I ill live my mother,
An my brothers three,
An I will live my goats,
An go along we thee.’

28 The maid touke the knight-bairn in her ar[m]s,
An his lady took he,
An they are to gued ship-bourd,
And took God to be ther foresteed, an didne fear to droun.

29 An they landed att Duglas Dalle,
Far the lands was briad an frie,
An the knight-bairn was Black Sir James of Duglas Dall,
An a gallant knight was hee.

102. Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter

Version A

1 O WILLIERR’rrS large o limb and lith,
And come o high degree,
And he is gane to Earl Richard,
To serve for meat and fee.

2 Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
Fair as a lily-flower,
And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.

3 It fell upon a simmer’s nicht,
Whan the leaves were fair and green,
That Willie met his gay ladie
Intil the wood alane.

4 ‘O narrow is my gown, Willie,
That wont to be sae wide;
And gane is a’ my fair colour,
That wont to be my pride.

5 ‘But gin my father should get word
What’s past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He’d hang you oer that wa.

6 ‘But ye’ll come to my bower, Willie,
Just as the sun gaes down,
And kep me in your arms twa,
And latna me fa down.’

7 O whan the sun was now gane down,
He’s doen him till her bower,
And there, by the lee licht o the moon,
Her window she lookit oer.

8 Intill a robe o red scarlet
She lap, fearless o harm;
And Willie was large o lith and limb,
And keepit her in his arm.

9 And they’ve gane to the gude green wood,
And, ere the night was deen,
She’s born to him a bonny young son,
Amang the leaves sae green.

10 Whan night was gane, and day was come,
And the sun began to peep,
Up and raise the Earl Richard
Out o his drowsy sleep.

11 He’s ca’d upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three:
‘O what’s come o my daughter dear,
That she’s nae come to me?

12 ‘I dreamt a dreary dream last night,
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
Drown in the saut sea flood.

13 ‘But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
Or yet be stown awa,
I mak a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
I’ll hang ye ane and a’!’

14 They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green wood,
Nursing her bonny young son.

15 He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kist him tenderlie;
Says, Though I would your father hang,
Your mother’s dear to me.

16 He kist him oer and oer again:
‘My grandson I thee claim,
And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
And that shall be your name.’

17 And mony ane sings o grass, o grass,
And mony ane sings o corn,
And mony ane sings o Robin Hood
Kens little whare he was born.

18 It wasna in the ha, the ha,
Nor in the painted bower,
But it was in the gude green wood,
Amang the lily-flower.

Version B

1 MONY ane talks o the grass, the grass,
And mony ane o the corn,
And mony ane talks o gude Robin Hood
Kens little whar he was born.

2 He was gotten in a earl’s ha,
And in a lady’s bower,
And born into gude greenwood,
Thro mony cauld winter’s shower.

3 His father was the earl’s own steward,
Sprung frae sma pedigree;
His mother, Earl Huntingdon’s ae daughter,
For he had nane else but she.

4 When nine months were near an end,
And eight months they were gone,
The lady’s cheeks wi tears were wet,
And thus she made her moan:

5 ‘What shall I say, my love Archibald,
This day for you and me?
I will be laid in cauld irons,
And ye’ll be hanged on tree.’

6 ‘What aileth my love Clementina?
What gars you mourn sae sair?’
‘You know,’ said she, ‘I’m with child to thee,
These eight lang months and mair.’

7 ‘Will ye gae to my mother’s bower,
Stands on yon stately green?
Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood,
Where ye will not be seen?’

8 ‘I winna gang to your mother’s bower,
Stands on yon stately green;
But I will on to gude greenwood,
For I will not be seen.’

9 He’s girt his sword down by his side,
Took his lady by the hand,
And they are on thro gude greenwood,
As fast as they could gang.

10 With slowly steps these couple walkd,
About miles scarcely three.
When this lady, being sair wearied out,
Lay down beneath a tree.

11 ‘O for a few of yon junipers,
To cheer my heart again,
And likewise for a gude midwife,
To ease me of my pain!’

12 ‘I’ll bring to you yon junipers,
To cheer your heart again,
And I’ll be to you a gude midwife,
To ease you of your pain.’

13 ‘Had far awa frae me, Archibald,
For this will never dee;
That’s nae the fashion o our land,
And it’s nae be used by me.

14 ‘Ye’ll take your small-sword by your side,
Your buckler and your bow,
And ye’ll gae down thro gude greenwood,
And hunt the deer and roe.

15 ‘You will stay in gude greenwood,
And with the chase go on,
Until yon white hind pass you by,
Then straight to me ye’ll come.’

16 He’s girt his sword then by his side,
His buckler and his bow,
And he is on thro gude greenwood,
To hunt the deer and roe.

17 And in the greenwood he did stay,
And with the chase gaed on,
Until the white hind passd him by,
Then to his love he came.

18 He girt his sword then by his side,
Fast thro greenwood went he,
And there he found his love lie dead,
Beneath the green oak tree.

19 The sweet young babe that she had born
Right lively seemed to be;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said young Archibald,
‘A mournful scene to me!

20 ‘Altho my sweet babe is alive,
This does increase my woe;
How to nourish a motherless babe
Is mair than I do know.’

21 He looked east, he looked west,
To see what he could see,
Then spied the Earl o Huntingdon,
And mony a man him wi.

22 Then Archibald fled from the earl’s face,
Among the leaves sae green,
That he might hear what might be said,
And see, and nae be seen.

23 The earl straight thro the greenwood came,
Unto the green oak tree,
And there he saw his daughter dead,
Her living child her wi.

24 Then he’s taen up the little boy,
Rowed him in his gown-sleeve;
Said, Tho your father’s to my loss,
Your mother’s to me leave.

25 And if ye live until I die,
My bowers and lands ye’se heir;
You are my only daughter’s child;
But her I never had mair.

26 Ye’se hae all kinds of nourishment,
And likewise nurses three;
If I knew where the fause knave were,
High hanged should he be.

27 His daughter he buried in gude church-yard,
All in a mournful mood,
And brought the boy to church that day,
And christend him Robin Hood.

28 This boy was bred in the earl’s ha
Till he became a man,
But loved to hunt in gude greenwood,
To raise his noble fame.

Version C

1 MONY ane speaks o grass, o grass,
And mony mare o corn,
And mony ane sings o Robin Heed
Kens little whare he was born.

2 He was born in good green wood,
At the fut o yon olive tree;
His father was a knight’s ae son,
And his mother a lady free.

103. Rose the Red and White Lily

Version A

1 O ROSE the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman,
Wishd them twa little guede.

2 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As eer brake manis bread,
And the tane of them loed her White Lilly,
An the tither lood Rose the Red.

3 O biggit ha they a bigly bowr,
And strawn it oer wi san,
And there was mair mirth i the ladies’ bowr
Than in a’ their father’s lan.

4 But out is spake their step-mother,
Wha stood a little foreby:
I hope to live and play the prank
Sal gar your loud sang ly.

5 She’s calld upon her eldest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my eldest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.

6 ‘Gin if fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But never war to Rose the Red
Than ye ha been to me.’

7 ‘O had your tongue, my eldest son,
For sma sal be her part;
You’ll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth
Gin your very fair heart should break.’

8 She’s calld upon her youngest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my youngest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.

9 ‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to White Lilly
Than ye ha been to me.’

10 ‘O haud your tongue, my youngest son,
For sma sall be her part;
You’ll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth
Tho your very fair heart should break.’

11 When Rose the Red and White Lilly
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang,
And tane up the still mournin;
And their step-mother stood listnin by,
To hear the ladies’ mean.

12 Then out it spake her White Lilly:
My sister, we’ll be gane;
Why should we stay in Barnsdale,
To waste our youth in pain?

13 Then cutted ha they their green cloathing
A little below their knee,
An sae ha they there yallow hair,
A little aboon there bree;
An they’ve doen them to haely chapel,
Was christened by Our Lady.

14 There ha they chang’d their ain twa names,
Sae far frae ony town,
An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy,
An the tither o them Roge the Roun.

15 Between this twa a vow was made,
An they sware it to fulfil;
That at three blasts o a bugle-horn,
She’d come her sister till.

16 Now Sweet Willy’s gane to the kingis court,
Her true-love for to see,
An Roge the Roun to good green wood,
Brown Robin’s man to be.

17 As it fell out upon a day
They a’ did put the stane,
Full seven foot ayont them a’
She gard the puttin-stane gang.

18 She leand her back against an oak,
And gae a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
But that’s a woman’s moan!

19 ‘O ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair?
Nor ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare?’

20 ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
Will find a lady there.’

21 ‘O gin ye come to my bowr within,
Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi this same bran that’s in my han,
I swear I will the kill.’

22 ‘But I will come thy bowr within,
An spear nae leave,’ quoth he;
‘An this same bran that’s i my han
I sall ware back on the.’

23 About the tenth hour of the night
The ladie’s bower-door was broken,
An eer the first hour of the day
The bonny knave-bairn was gotten.

24 When days were gane, and months were run,
The lady took travailing,
And sair she cry’d for a bowr-woman,
For to wait her upon.

25 Then out it spake him Brown Robin:
Now what needs a’ this din?
For what coud any woman do
But I coud do the same?

26 ‘’Twas never my mither’s fashion,’ she says,
‘Nor sall it ever be mine,
That belted knights shoud eer remain
Where ladies dreed their pine.

27 ‘But ye take up that bugle-horn,
An blaw a blast for me;
I ha a brother in the kingis court
Will come me quickly ti.’

28 ‘O gin ye ha a brither on earth
That ye love better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
‘For ae blast I winna gie.’

29 She’s set the horn till her mouth,
And she’s blawn three blasts sae shrill;
Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court,
And came her quickly till.

30 Then up it started Brown Robin,
An an angry man was he:
‘There comes nae man this bowr within
But first must fight wi me.’

31 O they hae fought that bowr within
Till the sun was gaing down,
Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red
Came hailing to the groun.

32 She leand her back against the wa,
Says, Robin, let a’ be;
For it is a lady born and bred
That’s foughten sae well wi thee.

33 O seven foot he lap a back;
Says, Alas, and wae is me!
I never wishit in a’ my life,
A woman’s blude to see;
An a’ for the sake of ae fair maid
Whose name was White Lilly.

34 Then out it spake her White Lilly,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
She’s lived wi you this year an mair,
Tho ye kentna it was she.

35 Now word has gane thro a’ the lan,
Before a month was done,
That Brown Robin’s man, in good green wood,
Had born a bonny young son.

36 The word has gane to the kingis court,
An to the king himsel;
‘Now, by my fay,’ the king could say,
‘The like was never heard tell!’

37 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
An a hearty laugh laugh he:
I trow some may has playd the loun,
And fled her ain country.

38 ‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the king,
‘My bow and arrows keen;
I’l ride mysel to good green wood,
An see what’s to be seen.’

39 ‘An’t please your grace,’ said Bold Arthur,
‘My liege, I’ll gang you wi,
An try to fin a little foot-page,
That’s strayd awa frae me.’

40 O they’ve hunted i the good green wood
The buck but an the rae,
An they drew near Brown Robin’s bowr,
About the close of day.

41 Then out it spake the king in hast,
Says, Arthur, look an see
Gin that be no your little foot-page
That leans against yon tree.

42 n Arthur took his bugle-horn,
An blew a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willy started at the sound,
An ran him quickly till.

43 ‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or gat ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?’

44 ‘I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye ay was good;
I came but to see my ae brother,
That wons in this green wood.’

45 Then out it spake the king again,
Says, Bonny boy, tell to me
Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
Stands by yon green oak tree?

46 ‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy,
‘My liege, I dare no tell;
An I pray you go no near that bowr,
For fear they do you fell.’

47 ‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bowr within,
Betide me weel or wae.’

48 They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds,
An saftly enterd in,
An there they saw her White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny yong son.

49 ‘Now, by the rood,’ the king coud say,
‘This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester’s man,
This is a lady bright!’

50 Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An fell low down on her knee:
O pardon us, my gracious liege,
An our story I’ll tell thee.

51 Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wond in Barnsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meickle bale.

52 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As ever the sun did see,
An the tane o them lood my sister dear,
An the tither sayd he lood me.

53 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
As by the king he stood:
Now, by the faith o my body,
This shoud be Rose the Red!

54 Then in it came him Brown Robin,
Frae hunting o the deer,
But whan he saw the king was there,
He started back for fear.

55 The king has taen him by the hand,
An bade him naithing dread;
Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood,
Come to the court wi speed.

56 Then up he took White Lilly’s son,
An set him on his knee;
Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran,
My bowman ye sall bee.

57 The king he sent for robes of green,
An girdles o shinning gold;
He gart the ladies be arrayd
Most comely to behold.

58 They’ve done them unto Mary Kirk,
An there gat fair wedding,
An fan the news spread oer the lan,
For joy the bells did ring.

59 Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she this sight did see!

Version B

1 NOW word is gane thro a’ the land,
Gude seal that it sae spread!
To Rose the Red and White Lillie,
Their mither dear was dead.

2 Their father’s married a bauld woman,
And brought her ower the sea,
Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,
Intill her companie.

3 They fixd their eyes on those ladies,
On shipboard as they stood,
And sware, if ever they wan to land,
These ladies they woud wed.

4 But there was nae a quarter past,
A quarter past but three,
Till these young luvers a’ were fond
O other’s companie.

5 The knights they harped i their bower,
The ladies sewd and sang;
There was mair mirth in that chamer
Than a’ their father’s lan.

6 Then out it spak their step-mither,
At the stair-foot stood she:
I’m plagued wi your troublesome noise!
What makes your melodie?

7 O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
White Lillie, your voice is strang;
But gin I live and brook my life,
I’se gar you change your sang.

8 ‘We maunna change our loud, loud song
For nae duke’s son ye’ll bear;
We winna chnage our loud, loud song,
But aye we’ll sing the mair.

9 ‘We never sung the sang, mither,
But we’ll sing ower again;
We’ll take our harps into our hands,
And we’ll harp, and we’ll sing.’

10 She’s calld upon her twa young sons,
Says, Boun ye for the sea;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bower wi me.

11 ‘O God forbid,’ said her eldest son,
‘Nor lat it ever be,
Unless ye were as kind to our luves
As gin we were them wi.’

12 ‘Yet never the less, my pretty sons,
Ye’ll boun you for the faem;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bowers at hame.’

13 ‘O when wi you we came alang,
We felt the stormy sea,
And where we go, ye neer shall know,
Nor shall be known by thee.’

14 Then wi her harsh and boisterous word
She forc’d these lads away,
While Rose the Red and White Lillie
Still in their bowers did stay.

15 But there was not a quarter past,
A quarter past but ane,
Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,
White Lillie’s claithing grew thin.

16 Wi bitter usage every day,
The ladies they thought lang;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said Rose the Red,
‘She’s gard us change our sang.

17 ‘But we will change our own fu names,
And we’ll gang frae the town,
Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie
To Nicholas and Roger Brown.

18 ‘And we will cut our green claithing
A little aboon our knee,
And we will on to gude greenwood,
Twa bauld bowmen to be.’

19 ‘Ohon, alas!’ said White Lillie,
‘My fingers are but sma,
And tho my hands woud wield the bow,
They winna yield at a’.’

20 ‘O had your tongue now, White Lillie,
And lat these fears a’ be;
There’s naething that ye’re awkward in
But I will learn thee.’

21 Then they are on to gude greenwood,
As fast as gang coud they;
O then they spied him Robin Hood,
Below a green aik tree.

22 ‘Gude day, gude day, kind sir,’ they said,
‘God make you safe and free:’
‘Gude day, gude day,’ said Robin Hood,
‘What is your wills wi me?’

23 ‘Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,
Come frae our native hame;
We’re come to crave o thee service,
Our king will gie us nane.’

24 ‘If ye be twa young banishd knights,
Tell me frae what countrie:’
‘Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;
Ye know it as well as we.’

25 ‘If a’ be true that ye hae said,
And tauld just now to me,
Ye’re welcome, welcome, every one;
Your master I will be.

26 ‘Now ye shall eat as I do eat,
And lye as I do lye;
Ye salna wear nae waur claithing
Nor my young men and I.’

27 Then they went to a ruinous house,
And there they enterd in,
And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,
And Roger wi Little John.

28 But it fell ance upon a day
They were at the putting-stane,
Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a’,
As they stood on the green.

29 She hit the stane then wi her foot,
And kepd it wi her knee,
And spaces three aboon them a’
I wyte she gard it flee.

30 She sat her back then to a tree,
And gae a loud Ohon!
A lad spak in the companie,
I hear a woman’s moan.

31 ‘How know you that, young man?’ she said,
‘How know you that o me?
Did eer ye see me in that place
Ae foot my ground to flee?

32 ‘Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?
Or by my yellow hair?
Or by the paps on my breast-bane?
Ye never saw them bare.’

33 ‘I know not by your cherry cheeks,
Nor by your yellow hair;
But I know by your milk-white chin,
On it there grows nae hair.

34 ‘I never saw you in that cause
Ae foot your ground to flee;
I’ve seen you stan wi sword in han
Mang men’s blood to the knee.

35 ‘But if I come your bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
I shall know before I go
If ye be man or may.’

36 ‘O if you come my bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
As soon’s I draw my trusty brand,
Nae lang ye’ll wi me stay.’

37 But he is haunted to her bower,
Her bigly bower o stane,
Till he has got her big wi bairn,
And near sax months she’s gane.

38 Whan three mair months were come and gane,
They gaed to hunt the hynde;
She wont to be the foremost ane,
But now stayd far behynd.

39 Her luver looks her in the face,
And thus to her said he;
I think your cheeks are pale and wan;
Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?

40 O want ye roses to your breast?
Or ribbons to your sheen?
Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve
As your heart can conteen?

41 ‘I want nae roses to my breast,
Nae ribbons to my sheen;
Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve
As my heart can conteen.

42 ‘I’d rather hae a fire behynd,
Anither me before,
A gude midwife at my right side,
Till my young babe be bore.’

43 ‘I’ll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
Bring wine in a green horn;
I’ll be midwife at your right side,
Till your young babe be born.’

44 ‘That was neer my mither’s custom,
Forbid that it be mine!
A knight stan by a lady bright
Whan she drees a’ her pine.

45 ‘There is a knight in gude greenwood,
If that he kent o me,
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Sae soon’s he woud come me tee.’

46 ‘If there be a knight in gude greenwood
Ye like better than me,
If ance he come your bower within,
Ane o us twa shall dee.’

47 She set a horn to her mouth,
And she blew loud and shrill;
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Brave Roger came her till.

48 ‘Wha’s here sae bauld,’ the youth replied,
‘Thus to encroach on me?’
‘O here I am,’ the knight replied,
‘Hae as much right as thee.’

49 Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
Sae did they down the plain;
They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
Till they were bleedy men.

50 Then out it spak the sick woman,
Sat under the greenwood tree;
O had your han, young man, she said,
She’s a woman as well as me.

51 Then out it speaks anither youth,
Amang the companie;
Gin I had kent what I ken now,
’Tis for her I woud dee.

52 ‘O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
An ill death mat ye dee!
Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
Ye might hae heald on me.’

53 ‘O for her sake I was content
For to gae ower the sea;
For her I left my mither’s ha,
Tho she proves fause to me.’

54 But whan these luvers were made known,
They sung right joyfullie,
Nae blyther was the nightingale,
Nor bird that sat on tree.

55 Now they hae married these ladies,
Brought them to bower and ha;
And now a happy life they lead;
I wish sae may we a’.

Version C

1 THE king has wedded an ill woman,
Into some foreign land;
His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
They bravely sat and sang.

2 Then in became their step-mother,
Sae stately steppin ben:
‘O gin I live and bruik my life,
I’ll gar ye change your tune.’

3 ‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
?? ‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
?? ‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
?? ‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
But we will sing again;
And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
We wad lay our love on.

4 ‘But we will cow our yellow locks
A little abune our bree,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
And serve for meat and fee.

5 ‘And we will kilt our gay claithing
A little below the knee,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.

6 ‘And we will change our ain twa names,
When we gae frae the toun;
The tane we will call Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.’

7 Then they hae cowd their yellow locks
A little abune their bree,
And they are on to gude greenwud,
To serve for meat and fee.

8 And they hae kilt their gay claithing
A little below their knee,
And they are on to gud greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood they see.

9 And they hae chang’d thair ain twa names,
Whan they gaed frae the toun;
The tane they’ve called Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.

10 And they hae staid in gude greenwud,
And never a day thoucht lang,
Till it fell ance upon a day
That Rogee sang a sang.

11 ‘Whan we were in our father’s bouer,
We sewd the silken seam;
But now we walk the gude greenwud,
And bear anither name.

12 ‘When we were in our father’s ha,
We wore the beaten gold;
But now we wear the shield sae sharp;
Alas, we’ll die with cold!’

13 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
As he to them drew near:
‘Instead of boys to carry the bow,
Two ladies we’ve got here.’

14 So they had not been in gud greenwud
A twalmonth and a day,
Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn
As onie lady could gae.

15 ‘O wae be to my stepmother,
That garrd me leave my hame!
For I’m wi bairn to Robin Hood,
And near nine month is gane.

16 ‘O wha will be my bouer-woman?
Na bouer-woman is here;
O wha will be my bouer-woman,
Whan that sad time draws near?’

17 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
At the foot o yon greenwud tree:
O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,
For married ye sall be.

18 The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,
And the tither to Little John;
And it was a’ owing to their stepmother,
That garrd them leave their hame.

104. Prince Heathen

Version A

1 LADY MARGERY MAY sits in her bower,
Sewing at her seem;
By there comes a heathen knight,
From her her maidenhead has tane.

2 He has put her in a tower strong,
With double locks on fifty doors:
‘Lady Margery May, will you ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.

3 ‘I am asking, you heathen knight;
What I am asking will you grant to me?
Will ye let one of your waitmen
A drink of your well bring to me?’

4 ‘Meat nor drink you shall never get,
Nor out of that shall you never come,
Meat nor drink shall you never get,
Until you bear to me daughter or son.’

5 Thus time drew on, and further on,
For travail came this young lady to;
She travailed up, so did she down,
But lighter could she never be.

6 ‘An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
An asking will you grant to me?
Will you give me a scread of silk,
For to row your young son wi?’

7 He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
The tears came twinkling down:
‘Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.’

8 ‘I’ll wash my young son with the milk,
I will dry my young son with the silk;
For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
So dear will I love my lady now!’

Version B

1 LADY MARGARET sat in her bower-door,
Sewing at her silken seem,
When by it came Prince Heathen then,
An gae to her a gay gold ring.

2 He turnd about, an gied a bow;
She said, Begone, I love na you;
When he sware by his yellow hair
That he woud gar her greet fu sair.

3 But she sware by her milk-white skin
Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:
But she sware by her milk-white skin
Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:
‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.

4 He’s taen her in his arms twa,
Laid her between him an the wa,
An ere he let her free again,
Her maidenhead frae her he’s taen.
‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

5 ‘I killd your father in his bed,
And your gay mother by his side,
And your seven brothers, ane by ane,
And they were seven pretty men.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

6 ‘I’ll put you in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there then shall you see,
For I will keep the keys wi me.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

7 ‘He’s put her in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there coud eer her see,
Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.
But ae she cried, What shall I do!
The heathenish dog has gart me rue.

8 Prince heathen from the mountains came,
Attended by his armed men,
And he’s gane to the bonny may,
And to the prison where she lay:
‘O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’

9 ‘I’ll take you out upon the green,
Where women ye shall neer see ane,
But only me and my young men,
Till ye bring daughter hame or son.
O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’

10 He’s taen her out upon the green,
Where she saw women never ane,
But only him and ’s merry young men,
Till she brought hame a bonny young son.
‘O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.

11 ‘A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen’s hand,
Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!’
‘O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,’ said one,
‘Till ye row up your bonny young son.’
‘How can I row up my bonny young son.’
When I hae naething to row him in?’

12 ‘I will lend you my horse’s sheet,
That will row him baith head and feet.’
As soon’s she took it in her han,
Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.
‘O bonny may, ye do greet now:’
‘Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.

13 ‘But a’ is for my bonny young son;
Your sheets are rough to row him in;
Ohon, alas, sair may I rue
That eer I saw such rogues as you!’

14 ‘Ye’ll row my young son in the silk,
An ye will wash him wi the milk,
An lay my lady very saft,
That I may see her very aft.’
When hearts are broken, bands will bow;
Sae well’s he loved his lady now!

105. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington

1 THERE was a youth, and a well belovd youth,
And he was a esquire’s son,
He loved the bayliff’s daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.

2 She was coy, and she would not believe
That he did love her so,
No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show.

3 But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.

4 And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,
‘Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me.’

5 All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play;
All but the bayliff’s daughter dear;
She secretly stole away.

6 She put off her gown of gray,
And put on her puggish attire;
She’s up to fair London gone,
Her true-love to require.

7 As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.

8 She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,
To ease my weary limb.’

9 ‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?’
‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she,
Where I have had many a scorn.’

10 ‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’
‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’

11 ‘Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know.’

12 ‘O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She’s alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And is ready to be thy bride.’

13 ‘O farewel grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times and more!
For now I have seen my own true-love,
That I thought I should have seen no more.’

106. The Famous Flower of Serving Men

1 YOU beautious ladies, great and small,
I write unto you one and all,
Whereby that you may understand
What I have suffered in this land.

2 I was by birth a lady fair,
My father’s chief and onely heir,
But when my good old father dy’d,
Then was I made a young knight’s bride.
But when my good old father dy’d,
Then was I made a young knight’s bride.
But when my good old father dy’d,
Then was I made a young knight’s bride.

3 And then my love built me a bower,
Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower;
A braver bower you never did see
Then my true-love did build for me.

4 But there came thieves late in the night,
They rob’d my bower, and slew my knight,
And after that my knight was slain,
I could no longer there remain.

5 ould no longer there remain.

5 My servants all from me did flye,
In the midst of my extremity,
And left me by my self alone,
In the midst of my extremity,
And left me by my self alone,
With a heart more cold then any stone.

6 Yet, though my heart was full of care,
Heaven would not suffer me to despair;
Wherefore in hast I chang’d my name
From Fair Elise to Sweet William.

7 And therewithal I cut my hair,
And drest my self in man’s attire,
My doublet, hose, and bever-hat,
And a golden band about my neck.

8 With a silver rapier by my side,
So like a gallant I did ride;
The thing that I delighted on,
Was for to be a serving-man.

9 for to be a serving-man.

9 for to be a serving-man.

9 Thus in my sumptuous man’s array,
I bravely rode along the way;
And at the last it chanced so
That I unto the king’s court did go.

10 Then to the king I bowed full low,
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
That I a serving-man’s place might have.

11 ‘Stand up, brave youth, the king replyd,
‘Thy service shall not be denyd;
But tell me first what thou canst do;
Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.

12 ‘Wilt thou be usher of my hall,
To wait upon my nobles all?
Or wilt thou be taster of my wine,
To wait on me when I shall dine?

13 ‘Or wilt thou be my chamberlain,
To make my bed both soft and fine?
Or wilt thou be one of my guard?
And I will give thee thy reward.’

14 Sweet William, with a smiling face,
Said to the king, If’t please your grace
To show such favour unto me,
Your chamberlain I fain would be.

15 The king then did the nobles call,
To ask the counsel of them all,
Who gave consent Sweet William he
The king’s own chamberlain should be.

16 Now mark what strange things come to pass:
As the king one day a hunting was,
With all his lords and noble train,
Sweet William did at home remain.

17 Sweet William had no company then
With him at home but an old man;
And when he saw the coast was clear,
He took a lute which he had there.
And when he saw the coast was clear,
He took a lute which he had there.
And when he saw the coast was clear,
He took a lute which he had there.

18 took a lute which he had there.

18 Upon the lute Sweet William plaid,
And to the same he sung and said,
With a pleasant and most noble voice,
Which made the old man to rejoyce:

19 ‘My father was as brave a lord
As ever Europe did afford;
?? ‘My father was as brave a lord
As ever Europe did afford;
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight.
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight.
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight.

20 ‘And I my self a lady gay,
Bedeckt with gorgious rich array;
The bravest lady in the land
Had not more pleasures to command.

21 ‘I had my musick every day,
Harmonious lessons for to play;
I had my virgins fair and free,
Harmonious lessons for to play;
I had my virgins fair and free,
Continually to wait on me.
I had my virgins fair and free,
Continually to wait on me.

22 ‘But now, alas! my husband’s dead,
And all my friends are from me fled;
My former joys are past and gone,
For now I am a serving-man.’
My former joys are past and gone,
For now I am a serving-man.’

23 At last the king from hunting came,
And presently upon the same
He called for the good old man,
And thus to speak the king began.

24 ‘What news, what news, old man?’ quod he;
‘What news hast thou to tell to me?’
‘Brave news,’ the old man he did say;
‘Sweet William is a lady gay.’

25 ‘If this be true thou tellest me
I’le make thee a lord of high degree;
But if thy words do prove a lye,
Thou shalt be hanged up presently.’

26 But when the king the truth had found,
His joys did more and more abound;
According as the old man did say,
Sweet William was a lady gay.

27 Therefore the king without delay
Put on her glorious rich array,
And upon her head a crown of gold,
Which was most famous to behold.

28 And then, for fear of further strife,
He took Sweet William for his wife;
The like before was never seen,
A serving-man to be a queen.

107. Will Steward and John

Version A

1 ADLATTS parke is wyde and broad,
And grass growes greene in our countrye;
?? ADLATTS parke is wyde and broad,
And grass growes greene in our countrye;
Eche man can gett the loue of his ladye,
But alas, I can gett none of mine!

2 Itt’s by two men I sing my song,
Their names is William Stewart and Iohn;
William he is the elder brother,
But Iohn hee is the wiser man.

3 But William he is in care-bed layd,
And for the loue of a faire ladye;
If he haue not the loue of the Erle of Mar’s daughter,
In faith for loue that he must dye.

4 faith for loue that he must dye.

4 Then Iohn was sorry for his brother,
To see him lye and languish soe:
‘What do you mourne for, brother?’ he saies,
‘I pray you tell to me your woe.

5 ‘Doe [you] mourne for gold, brother?’ he saies,
‘Or doe you mourne for fee?
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
‘Or doe you mourne for fee?
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
You neuer saw her with your eye?’
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
You neuer saw her with your eye?’
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
You neuer saw her with your eye?’
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
You neuer saw her with your eye?’

6 ‘I doe not mourne for gold,’ he saies,
‘Nor I doe not mourne for any fee;
But I doe mourne for a likesome ladye,
I neere blinke on her with mine eye.’

7 ‘But when haruest is gotten, my deere brother-+-
All this is true that I tell thee-+-
Gentlemen, they loue hunting well,
And giue wight-men their cloth and fee.

8 ‘Then I’le goe a wooing for thy sake,
In all the speed that I can gone,
And for to see this likesome ladye,
And hope to send thee good tydings home.’

9 Iohn Stewart is gone a wooing for his brother,
Soe farr into faire Scottland,
And left his brother in mikle feare,
Vntill he heard the good tydand.

10 And when he came to the Erle of Mar’s his house,
Soe well he could his curtesye,
And when he came before the erle,
He kneeled low downe vpon his knee.

11 ‘O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward,
Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee;
?? ‘O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward,
Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee;
How doth thy father, Iohn Stewart,
And all the lords in his countrye?’

12 ‘And itt please you, my lord, my father is dead;
My brother and I cannott agree;
My brother and I am fallen att discord,
And I am come to craue a service of thee.’

13 ‘O welcome, welcome, Iohn Stewart,
A welcome man thou art to me;
I’le make thee chamberlaine to my daughter,
And for to tend of that ladye soe free.

14 ‘And if thou wilt haue a better office,
Aske, and thou shall haue itt of mee;
And where I giue other men a penny of wage,
Inffaith, Iohn, thou shalt haue three.’

15 And then bespake him Iohn Stewart,
And these were the words said hee:
There is no office in your court
This day that better pleaseth mee.

16 The Ffryday is gone, the Sunday is come-+-
All this is true that I doe say-+-
And to the church that they be gone,
Iohn Stewart and the lady gay.

17 And as they did come home againe-+-
I-wis itt was a meeten mile-+-
Iohn Stewart and the lady gay.
They thought itt but a [little] while.

18 ‘I am a messenger, ladye,’ he saies,
‘I am a messenger to thee:’
‘O speake for thy selfe, Iohn Stewart,’ shee saies,
‘A welcome man that thou shalt bee.’

19 ‘Nay, by my faith,’ saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Which euer, alas that may not bee!
He hath a higher degree in honour,
Allas, ladye, then euer I!

20 ‘He is a lord now borne by birth,
And an erle affter his father doth dye;
His haire is yellow, his eyes beene gray;
All this is true that I tell yee.

21 ‘He is fine in the middle, and small in the wast,
And pleasant in a woman’s eye;
And more nor this, he dyes for your loue,
Therefore, lady, show some pittye.’

22 ‘If this be soe,’ then saies the lady,
‘If this be true that thou tells mee,
By my faith then, Iohn Stewart,
I can loue him hartilye.

23 ‘Bidd him meete me att St Patr[i]cke’s Church
On Sunday after St Andrew’s day;
The flower of Scottland will be there,
And then begins our summer’s play.

24 ‘And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners,
And rawnke ryders lett them bee,
And lett them bee of the rankest ryders
That be to be found in that countrye.

25 ‘They best and worst, and all in like,
Bidd him cloth them in one liuerye;
And for his men, greene is the best,
And greene now lett their liueryes bee.

26 ‘And clothe himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemlye for to see;
Ffor scarlett is a faire coulour,
And pleasant allwayes in a woman’s eye.

27 ‘He must play sixteene games att ball,
Against the men of this countrye,
And if he winn the greater part,
Then I shall love him more tenderlye.’

28 What the lady said, Iohn Stewart writt,
And to Argyle Castle sent it hee;
And [when] Willie Steward saw the letter,
Fforth of care-bed then lope hee.

29 Hee mustered together his merry men all,
Hee mustered them soe louelilye;
Hee thought hee had had scarson halfe a hundred,
Then had hee eleuen score and three.

30 He chose forth a hundred of the best
That were to be found in that countrye,
He cladd them all in one coulour,
And greene i-wis their liueryes bee.

31 He cladd himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemelye for to see;
Ffor scarlett is a faire coulor,
And seemlye in a woman’s eye.

32 And then towards Patricke Church he went,
With all his men in braue array,
To gett a sight, if he might,
And speake with his lady gay.

33 When they came to Patricke’s churche,
Shee kneeled downe by her mother trulye:
‘O mother, if itt please you to giue me leaue,
The Stewart’s horsse faine wold I see.’

34 ‘I’le giue you leaue, my deere daughter,
And I and my maide will goe with yee:’
The lady had rather haue gone her selfe
Then haue had her mother’s companye.

35 When they came before Willie Steward,
Soe well hee cold his curtesye:
‘I wold kisse your daughter, ladye,’ he said,
‘And if your will that soe itt bee.’

36 The ladye’s mother was content
To doe a straunger that curtesye;
And when Willie had gotten a kisse,
I-wis shee might haue teemed him three.

37 Sixteen games were plaid that day there-+-
This is the truth as I doe say-+-
Willie Stewart and his merry men,
Th carryed twelue of them away.

38 And when they games that they were done,
And all they folkes away were gone
But the Erle of Marr and William Stewart,
The erle wold needs haue William home.

39 And when they came vnto the erle’s howse,
They walked to a garden greene;
Ffor to confferr of their bussines,
Into the garden they be gone.

40 ‘I loue your daughter,’ saies William Stewart,
‘But I cannott tell whether she loueth mee:’
‘Marry, God defend,’ saies the Erle of Mar,
’That euer soe that itt shold bee!

41 ‘I had rather a gallowes there was made,
And hange thee for my daughter’s sake;
I had rather a fyer were made att a stake,
And burne thee for my daughter’s sake!

42 ‘To chamber, to chamber, gay ladye,’ he saies,
‘In the deuill’s name now I bidd thee!
And thou gett thee not to the chamber soone,
I’le beate thee before the Stewart’s eye.’

43 And then bespake William Stewart,
These were the words said hee:
‘If thou beate thy daughter for my sake,
Thou’st beate a hundred men and mee.’

44 Then bespake Iohn Stewart-+-
Lord! an angry man was hee-+-
‘O churle, if thou wouldest not haue macht with my brother,
Thou might haue answerd him curteouslye.’

45 ‘O hold thy peace, Iohn Stewart,
And chamber thy words now, I bidd thee;
If thou chamber not thy words soone,
Thou’st loose a good service; soe shalt thou doe me.’

46 ‘Marry! hang them that cares,’ saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Either for thy service or for thee;
Services can I haue enoughe,
But brethren wee must euer bee.’

47 William Stewart and his brother Iohn,
To Argyle Castle gon they bee;
And when Willye came to Argyle Castle,
Into care-bedd then lope hee.

48 A parlaiment att Edenborrow was made,
The king and his nobles all mett there;
Th sent for William Stewart and Iohn,
To come amongst the other peeres.

49 Their clothing was of scarlett redd,
That was soe seemelye for to see;
Blacke hatts, white feathers plewed with gold,
And sett all on their heads trulye.

50 Their stockings were of twisted silke,
With garters fringed about with gold;
Their shoes were of the cordevine,
And all was comelye to behold.

51 And when they came to Edenborrowe,
They called for Iohn Stewart and Willie:
‘I answer in a lord’s roome,’ saies Will Stewart,
‘But an erle I hope to bee.’

52 ‘Come downe, come downe,’ saies the Lord of Marr,
‘I knew not what was thy degree:’
‘O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter,
Itt had not beene long of my degree.

53 ‘My father, hee is the king his brother,
And then the king is vnckle to me;
O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter,
Itt had not beene long of my degree.’

54 ‘O hold your peace,’ then sayd the king,
‘Cozen William, I doe bidd thee;
Infaith, cozen William, he loues you the worsse
Because you are a-kinn to mee.

55 ‘I’le make thee an erle with a siluer wande,
And adde more honors still to thee;
Thy brother Iohn shall be a lord,
Of the best att home in his countrye.

56 ‘Thy brother Kester shalbe a knight,
Lands and liuings I will him giue,
And still hee shall liue in court with mee,
And I’le maintaine him whilest he doth liue.’

57 And when the parlaiment was done,
And all the folkes away were gone,
Willye Stewart and Iohn his brother,
To Argyle Castle they be gone.

58 But when they came to Argyle Castle,
That was soe farr in that countrye,
He thought soe much then of his loue
That into care-bedd then lope hee.

59 Iohn Stewart did see his brother soe ill,
Lord in his heart that hee was woe!
‘I will goe wooing for thy sake
Againe yonder gay ladye to.

60 ‘I’le cloth my selfe in strange array,
In a beggar’s habbitt I will goe,
That when I come before the Erle of Marr
My clothing strange he shall not knowe.’

61 Iohn hee gott on a clouted cloake,
Soe meete and low then by his knee,
With four garters vpon one legg,
Two aboue, and towe below trulye.

62 ‘But if thou be a beggar, brother,
Thou art a beggar that is vnknowne;
Ffor thou art one of the stoutest beggars
That euer I saw since I was borne.

63 ‘Heere, geeue the lady this gay gold ringe,
A token to her that well is knowne;
And if shee but aduise itt well,
Shee’le know some time itt was her owne.’

64 ‘Stay, by my faith, I goe not yett,’
Iohn Stewart he can replye;
‘I’le haue my bottle full of beere,
The best that is in thy butterye.

65 ‘I’le haue my sachell filld full of meate,
I am sure, brother, [it] will doe noe harme;
Ffor, before I come to the Erle of Marr’s his house,
My lipps, I am sure, they wilbe warme.’

66 And when he came to the Erle of Marr’s house,
By chance itt was of the dole-day;
But Iohn cold find no place to stand,
Vntill he came to the ladye gaye.

67 But many a beggar he threw downe,
And made them all with weeping say,
He is the devill, hee is no beggar,
That is come forth of some strange countrye.

68 And now the dole that itt is delte,
And all the beggars he gon away,
Sauing Iohn Stewart, that seemed a beggar,
And the ladye that was soe gay.

69 by my clothes you may thinke that I bee;
As by my clothes you may thinke that I bee;
I am your servant, Iohn Stewart,
And I am sent a messenger to thee.’

70 ‘But if thou be Iohn Stewart,
As I doe thinke that thou bee,
Avayle thy capp, avayle thy hoode,
And I will stand and speake to thee.

71 ‘How doth thy brother, Iohn Stewart,
And all the lords in his countrye?’
‘O fye vpon thee, wicked woman!
My brother he doth the worsse for thee.’

72 With that the teares stood in her eyes;
O lord, shee wept soe tenderlye!
Sais, Ligg the blame vnto my father;
I pray you, Iohn Stewart, lay itt not to mee.

73 Comend me to my owne true-loue,
That liues soe farr in the North countrye,
And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale,
That liues soe farr in the North countrye,
And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale,
Ffullye w[i]thin these dayes three.

74 Hang them, sais the lady gay,
That letts their father witting bee!
I’le proue a ladye full of loue,
And be there by the sunn be a quarter highe.

75 And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners,
And ranke riders lett them bee;
Lett them be of the rankest ryders
That be to be found in that countrye.

76 The best and worse, and all in like,
Bidd him clothe them in one liuerye;
And for his men, greene is the best,
And greene now lett their lyueryes bee.

77 And cloth himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemelye for to see;
For scarlett is a faire coulor,
And pleasant in a woman’s eye.

78 What they lady sayd, Iohn Stewart writt,
To Argyle Castle sent itt hee;
His bagg and his dish and showing horne,
Unto three beggars he gaue them all three.

79 And when Willie Stewart saw the letter,
Fforth of care-bed then lope hee;
He thought himselfe as lustye and sound
As any man in that countrye.

80 He mustered together his merrymen all,
He mustered them soe louinglye;
He thought he had had scarce halfe a hundred,
Then had hee eleuen score and three.

81 He chose forth a hundred of the best
That were to be found in that companye,
And presentlye they tooke their horsse,
And to Martingsdale posted hee.

82 And when he came to Martingsdale,
He found his loue staying there trulye,
For shee was a lady true of loue,
And was there by [the] sunn was a qwarter highe.

83 Shee kisst William Stewart and his brother Iohn,
Soe did shee part of his merry men:
‘If the churle, thy father, hee were here,
He shold not haue thee backe againe.’

84 They sent for preist, they sent for clarke,
And they were marryed there with speede;
William tooke the lady home with him,
And they liued together long time indeed.

85 And in twelue monthe soe they wrought,
The lady shee was great with childe;
The sent Iohn Stewart to the Erle off Marre,
To come and christen the barne soe milde.

86 ‘And if this be soe,’ sayes the Erle of Marre,
‘Iohn Stewart, as thou tells mee,
I hope in God you haue marryed my daughter,
And put her bodye to honestye.’

87 ‘Nay, by my faith,’ then saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Ffor euer alas that shall not bee;
Ffor now wee haue put her body to shame,
Thou’st haue her againe hame to thee.’

88 ‘I had rather make thee Erle of Marre,
And marry my daughter vnto thee;
For by my faith,’ sais the Erle of Marr,
‘Her marryage is marrd in our countrye.’

89 ‘If this be soe,’ then sais Iohn Stewart,
‘A marryage soone that thou shalt see;
Ffor my brother William, my father’s heyre,
Shall marry thy daughter before thine eye.’

90 They sent for preist, th sent for clarke,
And marryed there they were with speed;
And William Stewart is Erle of Marr,
And his father-in-law dwells with him indeed.

Version B

1 ‘SPEAK for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘And soon an answer I will gie to thee;
The highest service I can give thee
Is to wait on my daughter Ailly.

2 ’. . . . .
. . . . .
If ever I gie a man a penny wage,
I’m sure, John Stewart, ye shall hae three.’

3 ‘I speak not for mysell,’ John Stewart he did say,
‘I speak for a lord of a higher degree;
The message is from my brother William,
Your loving daughter’s husband to be.’

4 ’. . . . . .
. . . . . .

3 i’ll rather beat fair Ailly in my leather bang,
As lang as she can either stand or gang.’

5 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Ye hadna beat her before my face
Or ye’ll beat three hundred men and me.’

6 When william came to Mulbery Hall,
He kissd the ladies one and all;
But when he cam to fair Ailly,
She thought he might hae gaen her twa or three.

7 Between the kitchen and the garden
It is calld a measured mile;
That lady and that lord fell into discourse,
And they thought they rode it in a short while.
Chorus: Tring dilly, tring dilly, tring ding dido,
Tring dilly, tring dilly, dolo dee.

108. Christopher White

1 AS I walked forth one morninge,
By one place that pleased mee,
Wherin I heard a wandering wight,
Sais, Christopher White is good companye.

2 I drew me neere, and very neere,
Till I was as neere as neere cold bee;
Loth I was her councell to discreene,
Because I wanted companye.

3 ‘Say on, say on, thou well faire mayd,
Why makest thou moane soe heauilye?’
Sais, All is for one wandering wight,
Is banished forth of his owne countrye.

4 ‘I am the burgesse of Edenburrow,
Soe am I more of townes three;
I haue money and gold great store,
Come, sweet wench, and ligg thy loue on mee.’

5 The merchant pulled forth a bagg of gold
Which had hundreds two or three;
Sais, Euery day throughout the weeke
I’le comt as much downe on thy knee.

6 ‘O merchant, take thy gold againe,
A good liuing ’twill purchase thee;
If I be false to Christopher White,
Merchant, I cannott be true to thee.’

7 Sais, I haue halls, soe haue I bowers,
Sais, I haue shipps sayling on the sea;
I ame the burgess of Edenburrowe;
Come, sweete wench, ligge thy loue on mee.

8 Come on, come, thou well faire mayde,
Of our matters lett vs goe throughe,
For to-morrowe I’le marry thee,
And thy dwelling shalbe in Edenburrough.

9 The lady shee tooke this gold in her hand,
The teares th fell fast from her eye;
Sais, Siluer and gold makes my hart to turne,
And makes me leaue good companye.

10 They had not beene marryed
Not ouer monthes two or three,
But tydings came to Edenburrowe
That all the merchants must to the sea.

11 Then as this lady sate in a deske,
Shee made a loue-letter full round;
She mad a lettre to Christopher White,
And in itt shee put a hundred pound.

12 She lin’d the letter with gold soe red,
And mony good store in itt was found;
Shee sent itt to Christopher White,
That was soe far in the Scotts ground.

13 Shee bade him then frankely spend,
And looke that hee shold merry bee,
And bid him come to Edenburrowe,
Now all the merchants be to the sea.

14 But Christopher came to leeue London,
And there he kneeled lowly downe,
And there hee begd his pardon then,
Of our noble king that ware the crowne.

15 But when he came to his true-loue’s house,
Which was made both of lime and stone,
Shee tooke him by the lily-white hand,
Sais, True-loue, you are welcome home!

16 Welcome, my honey, welcome, my ioy,
Welcome, my true-loue; home to mee!
Ffor thou art hee that will lengthen my dayes,
And I know thou art good companye.

17 Christopher, I am a merchant’s wiffe;
Christopher, the more shall be your gaine;
Siluer and gold you shall haue enough,
Of the merchant’s gold that is in Spaine.

18 ‘But if you be a merchant’s wiffe,
Something t’o much you are to blame;
I will thee reade a loue-letter
Shall sture thy stumpes, thou noble dame.’

19 ‘Althoug I be a marchant’s wiffe,
. . . shall . . mine
. and g . . . . .
Into England I’le goe with the.’

20 They packet vp both siluer and plate,
Siluer and gold soe great plentye,
And they be gon into Litle England,
And the marchant must them neuer see.

21 And when the merchants they came home,
Their wiues to eche other can say,
Heere hath beene good Christopher White,
And he hath tane thy wiffe away.

22 They haue packett vp spoone and plate,
Siluer and gold great plenty,
And they be gon into Litle England,
And them againe thow must neuer see.

23 ‘I care nott for my siluer and gold,
Nor for my plate soe great plentye,
But I mourne for that like-some ladye
That Christopher White hath tane from mee.

24 ‘But one thing I must needs confesse,
This lady shee did say to me,
If shee were false to Christopher White,
Shee cold neuer be true to mee.

25 ‘All young men a warning take,
A warning, looke, you take by mee;
Looke that you loue your old loues best,
For infaith they are best companye.’

109. Tom Potts

Version A

1 all you lords of Scottland faire,
And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee,
There is a ladye amongst them all,
Of her report you shall heare of me.

2 Of her bewtye shee is soe bright,
And of her colour soe bright of blee;
Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell,
His heyre apparrant for to bee.

3 le see that bryde,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
’That is a ladye of hye degree,
And iff I like her countenance well,
The heyre of all my land shee’st bee

4 To that ladye fayre Lord Phenix came,
And to that like-some dame said hee,
Now God thee saue, my ladye faire,
The heyre of all my land tho’st bee.

5 ‘Leaue of your suite,’ the ladye sayd;
‘You are a lord of honor free;
You may gett ladyes enowe att home,
And I haue a lour in mine owne countrye.

6 ‘I haue a louer true of mine owne,
A servinge-man of a small degree;
Thomas a Pott, itt is his name,
He is the first loue that euer I had, and the last that hee shalbee.’

7 ‘Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name,
I wott I ken him soe readilye;
I can spend forty pounds by weeke,
And hee cannott spend pounds three.’

8 d giue you good of your gold,’ said the ladye,
Hee was the first loue that euer I had,
‘And alsoe, sir, of your fee!
Hee was the first lour that euer I had,
And the last, sir, shall hee bee.’

9 With that Lord Phenix was sore amoued;
Vnto her father then went hee;
Hee told her father how itt was proued,
How that his daughter’s mind was sett.

10 ‘Thou art my daughter,’ the Erle of Arrndell said,
‘They heyre of all my land to bee;
Thou’st be bryde to the Lord Phenix,
Daughter, giue thou’le be heyre to mee.’

11 For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose,
Her foolish wooing lay all aside;
The day is appoynted, and freinds are agreede;
Shee is forcte to be the Lord Phenix bryde.

12 With that the lady began to muse-+-
A greeued woman, God wott, was shee-+-
How shee might Lord Phenix beguile,
And scape vnmarryed from him that day.

13 Shee called to her her litle foote-page,
To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye;
Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle foote-page,
For indeed I dare trust none but thee.

14 To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe,
To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee,
And giue him here this letter faire,
And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me.

15 Looke thou marke his contenance well,
And his colour tell to mee;
And hye thee fast, and come againe,
And forty shillings I will giue thee.

16 For if he blush in his face,
Then in his hart hee’se sorry bee;
Then lett my father say what hee will,
For false to Potts I’le neuer bee.

17 And giue hee smile then with his mouth,
Then in his heart hee’le merry be;
Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can,
For small of his companye my part shalbe.

18 Then one while that the boy hee went,
Another while, God wott, rann hee,
And when hee came to Strawberry Castle,
There Thomas Potts hee see.

19 Then he gaue him this letter faire,
And when he began then for to reade,
They boy had told him by word of mouth
His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde.

20 With that, Thomas a Pott began to blushe,
The teares trickeled in his eye:
‘Indeed this letter I cannot reede,
Nor neuer a word to see or spye.

21 ‘I pray thee, boy, to me thou’le be trew,
And heer’s fiue marke I will giue thee;
And all these words thou must peruse,
And tell thy lady this from mee.

22 ‘Tell her by faith and troth shee is mine owne,
By some part of promise, and soe itt’s be found;
Lord Phenix shall neuer marry her, by night nor day,
And bidd that ladye for mee pray;
Without he can winn her with his hand.

23 ‘On Gilford Greene I will her meete,
And bidd that ladye for mee pray;
For there I’le loose my liffe soe sweete,
Or else the wedding I will stay.’

24 Then backe againe the boy he went,
As fast againe as he cold hye;
The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way:
‘Why hast hou stayd soe long?’ saies shee.

25 ‘Boy,’ said the ladye, ’Thou art but younge;
To please my mind thou’le mocke and scorne;
I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth,
Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.’

26 ‘Marry, by this booke,’ the boy can say,
‘As Christ himselfe be true to mee,
Thomas Pott cold not his letter reade
For teares trickling in his eye.’

27 ‘If this be true,’ the ladye sayd,
‘Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee,
Forty shillings I did thee promise,
But heere’s ten pounds I’le giue itt thee.

28 ‘All my maids,’ the lady sayd,
’That this day doe waite on mee,
Wee will fall downe vpon our knees,
For Thomas Pott now pray will wee.

29 ‘If his fortune be now for to winn-+-
Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye-+-
I’le make him the flower of all his kinn,
Ffor they Lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’

30 Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire,
In her prayer good where shee can bee;
And I’le tell you hou Thomas Pott
For ayd to his lord and master came hee.

31 And when hee came Lord Iockye before,
He kneeled him low downe on his knee;
Saies, Thou art welcome, Thomas Pott,
Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye.

32 Has thou slaine any of thy fellowes,
Or hast thou wrought me some villanye?
‘Sir, none of my fellowes I haue slaine,
Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye.

33 ‘But I haue a loue in Scottland faire,
I doubt I must lose her through pouertye;
If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth,
Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.’

34 When Lord Iockye looked the letter vpon,
The tender words in itt cold bee,
‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care,
Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.
‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care,
Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.

35 ‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke,
In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe,
And Harbye towne I will thee allowe
As longe as thou dost meane to wooe.

36 ‘Thou shalt haue fortye of thy fellowes faire,
And forty horsse to goe with thee,
And forty speares of the best I haue,
And I my-selfe in thy companye.’

37 ‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas Pott,
‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
I wold not for a thousand pounds
Take one man in my companye.’

38 ‘Why then, God be with thee, Thomas Pott!
Thou art well knowen and proued for a man;
Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode,
Nor neuer confound no gentlman.

39 ‘But looke thou take with him some truce,
Apoint a place of lybertye;
Lett him provide as well as hee cann,
And as well provided thou shalt bee.’

40 And when Thomas Pott came to Gilford Greene,
And walked there a litle beside,
Then was hee ware of the lord Phenix,
And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde.

41 Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott,
But noe word to her that he did say;
?? Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott,
But noe word to her that he did say;
But when he came Lord Phenix before,
He gaue him the right time of the day.

42 ‘O thou art welcome, Thomas a Potts,
How fares they lord and master att home,
Thou serving-man, welcome to mee!
How fares they lord and master att home,
And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?’

43 ‘Sir, my lord and my master is in verry good health,
I wott I ken itt soe readylye;
I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde,
A word or towe to talke with mee.

44 ‘You are a nobleman,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
‘Yee are a borne lord in Scottland free;
You may gett ladyes enowe att home;
You shall neuer take my loue from mee.’

45 ‘Away, away, thou Thomas a Potts!
Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side!
I wott there’s not a serving-man this day,
I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.’

46 ‘If I be but a seruing-man,’ sayd Thomas,
‘And you are a lord of honor free,
A speare or two I’le with you runn,
Before I’le loose her thus cowardlye.’

47 ‘On Gilford Greene,’ Lord Phenix saies, ‘I’le thee meete;
Neither man nor boy shall come hither with mee;’
‘And as I am a man,’ said Thomas a Pott,
‘I’le haue as few in my companye.’

48 With that the wedding-day was stayd,
The bryde went vnmarryed home againe;
Then to her maydens fast shee loughe,
And in her hart shee was full faine.

49 ‘But all my mayds,’ they ladye sayd,
’That this day doe waite on mee,
Wee will fall downe againe vpon our knees,
For Thomas a Potts now pray will wee.

50 ‘If his fortune be for to winn-+-
Wee’le pray to Christ in Trynitye-+-
I’le make him the flower of all his kinn,
For the lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’

51 Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre,
In her prayers good where shee can bee;
I’le tell you the troth how Thomas a Potts
For aide to his lord againe came hee.

52 And when he came to Strawberry Castle,
To try for his ladye he had but one weeke;
Alacke, for sorrow hee cannott forbeare,
For four dayes then he fell sicke.

53 With that his lord and master to him came,
Sayes, I pray thee, Thomas, tell mee without all doubt,
Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye,
Or thou man gange the ladye withoute.

54 ‘Marry, master, yett that matter is vntryde;
Within two dayes tryed itt must bee;
He is a lord, and I am but a seruing-man,
I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.’
‘Why, Thomas a Pott, take thou no care;
Thou’st neuer loose her through pouertye.

55 ‘Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere,
And that will raise thee many a pound;
Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye,
Thou shalt drop angells with him to the ground.

56 ‘And thou shalt haue forty of thy fellowes faire,
And forty horsses to goe with thee,
And forty speres of the best I haue,
And I my-selfe in thy companye.’

57 ‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
‘But of one thinge, sir, I wold be faine;
If I shold loose my bonny ladye,
How shall I increase your goods againe?’

58 ‘Why, if thou winn thy lady faire,
Thou maye well forth for to pay mee;
If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe;
Not one penny I will aske thee.’

59 ‘Master, you haue thirty horsses in one hold,
You keepe them ranke and royallye;
There’s an old horsse, -+-for him you doe not care-+-
This day wold sett my lady free.

60 ’That is a white, with a cutt tayle,
Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee;
Giffe you wold lend me that old horsse,
Then I shold gett her easilye.’

61 ‘Thou takes a foolish part,’ the Lord Iockye sayd,
‘And a foolish part thou takes on thee;
Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was,
That forty pounds cost more nor hee.’

62 ‘O master, those horsses beene wild and wicked,
And litle they can skill of the old traine;
Giffe I be out of my saddle cast,
They beene soe wild they’le neuer be tane againe.

63 ‘Lett me haue age, sober and wise;
Itt is a part of wisdome, you know itt plaine;
If I be out of my sadle cast,
Hee’le either stand still or turne againe.’

64 ‘Thou shalt haue that horsse with all my hart,
And my cote-plate of siluer free,
And a hundred men att thy backe,
For to fight if neede shalbee.’

65 ‘I thanke you, master,’ said Thomas a Potts,
‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
As you are a lord off honor borne,
Let none of my fellowes know this of mee.

66 ‘Ffor if they wott of my goinge,
I wott behind me they will not bee;
Without you keepe them vnder a locke,
Vppon that greene I shall them see.’

67 And when Thomas came to Gilford Greene,
And walked there some houres three,
Then was he ware of the Lord Phenix,
And four men in his companye.

68 ‘You haue broken your vow,’ sayd Thomas a Pott,
‘Your vowe that you made vnto mee;
You said you wold come your selfe alone,
And you haue brought more then two or three.’

69 ‘These are my waiting-men,’ Lord Phenix sayd,
’That euery day doe waite on mee;
Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr,
My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.’

70 ‘I’le runn noe race,’ said Thomas Potts,
‘Till that this othe heere made may bee:
If the one of vs be slaine,
The other forgiuen that hee may bee.’

71 ‘I’le make a vow,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘My men shall beare wittnesse with thee,
Giffe thou slay mee att this time,
Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.’

72 Then they turned their horsses round about,
To run the race fore egarlye;
Lord Phenix he was stiffe and stout,
He has runn Thomas quite thorrow the thye.

73 And beere Thomas out of his saddle faire;
Vpon the ground there did hee lye;
He saies, For my liffe I doe not care,
But for the loue of my ladye.

74 But shall I lose my ladye faire?
I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe;
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ryde not away,
For with thee I will loose my liffe.

75 Tho Thomas a Potts was a seruing-man,
He was alsoe a phisityan good;
He clapt his hand vpon his wound,
With some kind of words he stauncht the blood.

76 Then into his sadle againe hee leepe;
The blood in his body began to warme;
He mist Lord Phenix bodye there,
But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme.

77 And he bore him quite out of his saddle faire;
Vpon the ground there did he lye;
He said, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, rise and fight,
Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee.

78 ‘To fight with thee,’ quoth Phenix, ‘I cannott stand.
Nor for to fight, I cannott, sure;
Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme;
Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure.

79 ‘Thou’st haue that ladye with all my hart,
Sith itt was like neuer better to proue,
Nor neuer a noble-man this day,
That will seeke to take a pore man’s loue.’

80 ‘Why then, be of good cheere,’ saies Thomas Pott,
‘Indeed your bucher I’le neuer bee,
For I’le come and stanche your bloode,
Giff any thankes you’le giue to mee.’

81 As he was stanching the Phenix blood,
These words Thomas a Pott cann to him proue:
‘I’le neuer take a ladye of you thus,
But here I’le giue you another choice.

82 ‘Heere is a lane of two miles longe;
Att either end sett wee will bee;
The ladye shall sitt vs betweene,
And soe will wee sett this ladye free.’

83 ‘If thou’le doe soe,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘Thomas a Pott, as thou dost tell mee,
Whether I gett her or goe without her,
Heere’s forty pounds I’le giue itt thee.’

84 And when the ladye there can stand,
A woman’s mind that day to proue,
‘Now, by my faith,’ said this ladye faire,
‘This day Thomas a Pott shall haue his owne loue.’

85 Toward Thomas a Pott the lady shee went,
To leape behind him hastilye;
‘Nay, abyde a while,’ sayd Lord Phenix,
‘Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee.

86 ‘Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids-+-
In number with thee thou hast but three-+-
Thomas a Pott and I’le goe beyond yonder wall,
There the one of vs shall dye.’

87 And when they came beyond the wall,
The one wold not the other nye;
Lord Phenix he had giuen his word
With Thomas a Pott neuer to fight.

88 ‘Giue me a choice,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘Thomas a Pott, I doe pray thee;
Lett mee goe to yonder ladye faire,
To see whether shee be true to thee.’

89 And when hee came that ladye too,
Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee,
Now God thee saue, thou ladye faire,
The heyre of all my land thou’st bee.

90 Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine;
He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three;
?? Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine;
He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three;
Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd,
And marryed together wee will bee.

91 The ladye said, If Thomas a Potts this day thou haue slaine,
Thou hast slaine a better man than euer was thee;
And I’le sell all the state of my lande
But thou’st be hanged on a gallow-tree.

92 With that they lady shee fell in a soone;
A greeued woman, I wott, was shee;
Lord Phenix hee was readye there,
Tooke her in his armes most hastilye.

93 ‘O Lord, sweete, and stand on thy feete,
This day Thomas a Pott aliue can bee;
I’le send for thy father, the Lord of Arrundale,
And marryed together I will you see:
Giffe hee will not maintaine you well,
Both gold and land you shall haue from me.’

94 ‘I’le see that wedding,’ my Lord of Arrundale said,
‘Of my daughter’s loue that is soe faire;
And sith itt will no better be,
Of all my land Thomas a Pott shall be my heyre.’

95 ‘Now all my maids,’ the ladye said,
‘And ladyes of England, faire and free,
Looke you neuer change your old loue for no new,
Nor neuer change for no pouertye.

96 ‘Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne,
A seruing-man of a small degree;
Ffrom Thomas a Pott I’le turne his name,
And the Lord of Arrundale hee shall bee.’

Version B

1 OF all the lords in Scotland fair,
And ladies that been so bright of blee,
There is a noble lady among them all,
And report of her you shall hear by me.

2 For of her beauty she is bright,
And of her colour very fair;
She’s daughter to Lord Arundel,
And of her colour very fair;
She’s daughter to Lord Arundel,
Approvd his parand and his heir.

3 ‘I’le see this bride,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘That lady of so bright a blee,
And if I like her countenance well,
The heir of all my lands she’st be.’

4 But when he came the lady before,
Before this comely maid came he,
‘O God thee save, thou lady sweet,
My heir and parand thou shalt be.’

5 ‘Leave off your suit,’ the lady said,
‘As you are a lord of high degree;
And I have a lord in mine own country.

6 ‘For I have a lover true of mine own,
A serving-man of low degree,
One Tommy Pots it is his name,
My first love and last that ever shall be.’

7 ‘If that Tom Pots is his name,
I do ken him right verily;
I am able to spend fourty pounds a week,
Where he is not able to spend pounds three.’

8 ‘God give you good of your gold,’ she said,
‘And ever God give you good of your fee;
Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had,
And I do mean him the last to be.’

9 With that Lord Phenix soon was movd;
Towards the lady did he threat;
He told her father, and so it was provd,
How his daughter’s mind was set.

10 ‘O daughter dear, thou art my own,
The heir of all my lands to be;
Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix,
If that thou mean to be heir to me.’

11 ‘O father dear, I am your own,
And at your command I needs must be;
But bind my body to whom you please,
My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee.’

12 Alas! the lady her fondness must leave,
And all her foolish wooing lay aside;
The time is come, her friends have appointed,
That she must be Lord Phenix bride.

13 With that the lady began to weep;
She knew not well then what to say,
How she might Lord Phenix deny,
And escape from marriage quite away.

14 See calld unto her little foot-page,
Saying, I can trust none but thee;
Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair,
And bid him on Guilford Green meet me.

15 For I must marry against my mind,
Or in faith well proved it shall be;
And tell to him I am loving and kind,
And wishes him this wedding to see.

16 But see that thou note his countenance well,
And his colour, and shew it to me;
And go thy way and hie thee again,
And forty shillings I will give thee.

17 For if he smile now with his lips,
His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart;
Then may I seek another true-love,
For of Tom Pots small is my part.

18 But if he blush now in his face,
Then in his heart he will sorry be;
Then to his vow he hath some grace,
And false to him I will never be.

19 Away this lacky-boy he ran,
And a full speed forsooth went he,
?? Away this lacky-boy he ran,
And a full speed forsooth went he,
Till he came to Strawberry Castle,
And there Tom Pots came he to see.

20 He gave him the letter in his hand;
Before that he began to read,
He told him plainly by word of mouth,
His love was forc’d to be Lord Phenix bride.

21 When he lookd on the letter fair,
The salt tears blemished his eye;
Says, I cannot read this letter fair,
Nor never a word to see or spy.

22 My little boy, be to me true,
Here is five marks I will give thee;
And all these words I must peruse,
And tell my lady this from me.

23 By faith and troth she is my own,
By some part of promise, so it’s to be found;
Lord Phenix shall not have her night nor day,
Except he can win her with his own hand.

24 On Guilford Green I will her meet;
Say that I wish her for me to pray;
For there I’le lose my life so sweet,
Or else the wedding I mean to stay.

25 Away this lackey-boy he ran,
Even as fast as he could hie;
The lady she met him two miles of the way;
Says, Why hast thou staid so long, my boy?

26 My little boy, thou art but young,
It gives me at heart thou’l mock and scorn;
I’le not believe thee by word of mouth,
Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn.

27 ‘Now by this book,’ the boy did say,
‘And Jesus Christ be as true to me,
Tom Pots could not read the letter fair,
Nor never a word to spy or see.

28 ‘He says, by faith and troth you are his own,
By some part of promise, so it’s to be found;
Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day,
Except he win you with his own hand.

29 ‘On Guilford Green he will you meet;
He wishes you for him to pray;
For there he’l lose his life so sweet,
Or else the wedding he means to stay.’

30 ‘If this be true, my little boy,
These tidings which thou tellest to me,
Forty shillings I did thee promise,
Here is ten pounds I will give thee.

31 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
‘That ever wish me well to prove,
Now let us all kneel down and pray
That Tommy Pots may win his love.

32 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I pray to Christ in Trinity,
I’le make him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

33 Let’s leave talking of this lady fair,
In prayers full good where she may be;
Now let us talk of Tommy Pots;
To his lord and master for aid went he.

34 But when he came Lord Jockey before,
He kneeled lowly on his knee:
‘What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?

35 ‘What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?
Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,
Or wrought to me some villany.’

36 ‘I have slain none of my fellows fair,
Nor wrought to you no villany,
But I have a love in Scotland fair,
And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.

37 ‘If you’l not believe me by word of mouth,
But read this letter, and you shall see,
Here by all these suspitious words
That she her own self hath sent to me.’

38 But when he had read the letter fair,
Of all the suspitious words in it might be,
‘O Tommy Pots, take thou no care,
Thou’st never lose her with poverty.

39 ‘For thou’st have forty pounds a week,
In gold and silver thou shalt row,
And Harvy Town I will give thee
As long as thou intendst to wooe.

40 ‘Thou’st have forty of thy fellows fair,
And forty horses to go with thee,
Forty of the best spears I have,
And I my self in thy company.’

41 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘That proffer is too good for me;
But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side,
My own hands shall set her free.

42 ‘God be with you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Now Jesus Christ you save and see;
If ever I come alive again,
Staid the wedding it shall be.’

43 ‘O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art well proved for a man;
See never a drop of blood thou spil,
Nor yonder gentleman confound.

44 ‘See that some truce with him you take,
And appoint a place of liberty;
Let him provide him as well as he can,
As well provided thou shalt be.’

45 But when he came to Guilford Green,
And there had walkt a little aside,
There was he ware of Lord Phenix come,
And Lady Rosamond his bride.

46 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went,
But never a word to her did say,
Till he the Lord Phenix came before;
He gave him the right time of the day.

47 ‘O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou serving-man of low degree;
How doth thy lord and master at home,
And all the ladies in that countrey?’

48 ‘My lord and master is in good health,
I trust since that I did him see;
Will you walk with me to an out-side,
Two or three words to talk with me?

49 ‘You are a noble man,’ said Tom,
‘And born a lord in Scotland free;
You may have ladies enough at home,
And never take my love from me.’

50 ‘Away, away, thou Tommy Pots;
Thou serving-man, stand thou aside;
It is not a serving-man this day
That can hinder me of my bride.’

51 ‘If I be a serving-man,’ said Tom,
‘And you a lord of high degree,
A spear or two with you I’le run,
Before I’le lose her cowardly.

52 ‘Appoint a place, I will thee meet,
Appoint a place of liberty;
For there I’le lose my life so sweet,
Or else my lady I’le set free.’

53 ‘On Guilford Green I will thee meet;
No man nor boy shall come with me:’
‘As I am a man,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘I’le have as few in my company.’

54 And thus staid the marriage was,
The bride unmarried went home again;
Then to her maids fast did she laugh,
And in her heart she was full fain.

55 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
‘That ever wait on me this day,
Now let us all kneel down,
And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.

56 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I trust to God in Trinity,
I’le make him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

57 When Tom Pots came home again,
To try for his love he had but a week;
For sorrow, God wot, he need not care,
For four days that he fel sick.

58 With that his master to him came,
Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt
Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady,
Or thou must go thy love without.

59 ‘O master, yet it is unknown;
Within these two days well try’d it must be;
He is a lord, I am but a serving-man,
I fear I shall lose her with poverty.’

60 ‘I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet;
My former promises kept shall be;
As I am a lord in Scotland fair,
Thou’st never lose her with poverty.

61 ‘For thou’st have the half of my lands a year,
And that will raise thee many a pound;
Before thou shalt out-braved be,
Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground.’

62 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Yet there is one thing of you I would fain;
If that I lose my lady sweet,
How I’st restore your goods again?’

63 ‘If that thou win the lady sweet,
Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me;
If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough;
Thou shalt not pay me one penny.’

64 ‘You have thirty horses in one close,
You keep them all both frank and free;
Amongst them all there’s an old white horse
This day would set my lady free.

65 ‘That is an old horse with a cut tail,
Full sixteen years of age is he;
If thou wilt lend me that old horse,
Then could I win her easily.’

66 ‘That’s a foolish opinion,’ his master said,
‘And a foolish opinion thou tak’st to thee;
Thou’st have a better then ever he was,
Though forty pounds more it cost me.’

67 ‘O your choice horses are wild and tough,
And little they can skill of their train;
If I be out of my saddle cast,
They are so wild they’l ner be tain.’

68 ‘Thou’st have that horse,’ his master said,
‘If that one thing thou wilt tell me;
Why that horse is better than any other,
I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.’

69 ‘That horse is old, of stomach bold,
And well can he skill of his train;
If I be out of my saddle cast,
He’l either stand still or turn again.’

70 ‘Thou’st have the horse with all my heart,
And my plate-coat of silver free;
An hundred men to stand at thy back,
To fight if he thy master be.’

71 ‘I thank you master,’ said Tommy Pots;
‘That proffer is too good for me;
I would not, for ten thousand pounds,
Have man or boy in my company.

72 ‘God be with you master,’ said Tommy Pots;
‘Now, as you are a man of law,
One thing let me crave at your hand;
Let never a one of my fellows know.

73 ‘For if that my fellows they did wot,
Or ken of my extremity,
Except you keep them under a lock,
Behind me I am sure they would not be.’

74 But when he came to Guilford Green,
He waited hours two or three;
There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,
And four men in his company.

75 ‘You have broken your vow,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘The vow which you did make to me;
You said you would bring neither man nor boy,
And now has brought more than two or three.’

76 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘Which every day do wait on me;
[If] any of these dare proffer to strike,
I’le run my spear through his body.’

77 ‘I’le run no race now,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Except now this may be;
If either of us be slain this day,
The other shall forgiven be.’

78 ‘I’le make that vow with all my heart,
My men shall bear witness with me;
And if thou slay me here this day,
In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.’

79 They turnd their horses thrice about,
To run the race so eagerly;
Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,
And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th’ thigh.

80 He bord him out of the saddle fair,
Down to the ground so sorrowfully:
‘For the loss of my life I do not care,
But for the loss of my fair lady.

81 ‘Now for the loss of my lady sweet,
Which once I thought to have been my wife,
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,
For with thee I would end my life.’

82 Tom Pots was but a serving-man,
But yet he was a doctor good;
He bound his handkerchief on his wound,
And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.

83 He leapt into his saddle again,
The blood in his body began to warm;
He mist Lord Phenix body fair,
And ran him through the brawn of the arm.

84 He bord him out of his saddle fair,
Down to the ground most sorrowfully;
Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,
Or yield my lady unto me.

85 ‘Now for to fight I cannot tell,
And for to fight I am not sure;
Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th’ arm,
That with a spear I may not endure.

86 ‘Thou’st have the lady with all my heart;
It was never likely better to prove
With me, or any nobleman else,
That would hinder a poor man of his love.’

87 ‘Seeing you say so much,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘I will not seem your butcher to be;
But I will come and stanch your blood,
If any thing you will give me.’

88 As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood,
Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce!
‘I’le not take the lady from you thus,
But of her you’st have another choice.

89 ‘Here is a lane of two miles long;
At either end we set will be;
The lady shall stand us among,
Her own choice shall set her free.’

90 ‘If thou’l do so,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘To lose her by her own choice it’s honesty;
Chuse whether I get her or go her without,
Forty pounds I will give thee.’

91 But when they in that lane was set,
The wit of a woman for to prove,
‘By the faith of my body,’ the lady said,
‘Then Tom Pots must needs have his love.’

92 Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie,
To get on behind him hastily;
‘Nay stay, nay stay,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘Better proved it shall be.

93 ‘Stay you with your maidens here-+-
In number fair they are but three-+-
Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall,
That one of us two be proved to dye.’

94 But when they came behind the wall,
The one came not the other nigh;
For the Lord Phenix had made a vow,
That with Tom Pots he would never fight.

95 ‘O give me this choice,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘To prove whether true or false she be,
And I will go to the lady fair,
And tell her Tom Pots slain is he.’

96 When he came from behind the wall,
With his face all bloody as it might be,
‘O lady sweet, thou art my own,
For Tom Pots slain have I.

97 ‘Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots,
And given him death’s wounds two or three;
O lady sweet, thou art my own;
Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?’

98 ‘If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots,
And given him death’s wounds two or three,
I’le sell the state of my father’s lands
But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.’

99 With that the lady fell in a swound,
For a grieved woman, God wot, was she;
Lord Phenix he was ready then
To take her up so hastily.

100 ‘O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet,
Tom Pots alive this day may be;
I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
And he and I the wedding will see.

101 ‘I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
And he and I the wedding will see;
If he will not maintain you well,
Both lands and livings you’st have of me.’

102 ‘I’le see this wedding,’ Lord Arundel said,
‘Of my daughter’s luck that is so fair;
Seeing the matter will be no better,
Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.’

103 With that the lady began for to smile,
For a glad woman, God wot, was she;
‘Now all my maids,’ the lady said,
‘Example you may take by me.

104 ‘But all the ladies of Scotland fair,
And lasses of England that well would prove,
Neither marry for gold nor goods,
Nor marry for nothing but only love.

105 ‘For I had a lover true of my own,
A serving-man of low degree;
Now from Tom Pots I’le change his name,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

Version C

1 IN Scotland there are ladies fair,
There’s ladies of honor and high degree,
Hey down, down a down derry
But one excels above all the rest,
And the Earl of Arundel’s daughter is she.
With hey down, derry down,
Lang derry down derry

2 Both knights and lords of great account
Comes thither a wooing for this ladie’s sake:
It fell on a day that Earl Arundell said,
Daughter, which of these lords will you take?

3 Or which of them now likes thee best?
Speak truth to me, but do not lie;
Speak truth to me, and do not jest,
Who must heir my livings when as I die?

4 Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree,
And hath both lands and livings free;
I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have,
If thou wilt take any counsell at me.

5 With that the young lady fell down of her knee,
And trickling tears ran down her eye:
‘As you are my father, and loves me dear,
My heart is set where it must be.

6 ‘On a serving-man which is so poor,
For all he hath is but pounds three;
He was the first lover that ere I had,
And the last I mean him for to be.’

7 With that her father was sore offended,
And fast he rode at that same tide,
Untill he to the Lord Fenix came,
And fast he rode at that same tide,

8 The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy:
‘I dare trust no man alive but thee;
Thou must go my errand to Strawberry Castle,
To the place where Tomy o’th Potts doth lye.

9 ‘And carry this letter, in parchment fair,
That I have sealed with mine own hand;
And when Tomey looks this letter upon,
Be sure his countenance thou understand.

10 ‘And if he either laugh or smile,
He is not sorry at his heart;
I must seek a new love where I will,
For small of Tomey must be my part.

11 ‘But if he wax red in the face,
And tricling tears fall from his eyes,
Then let my father say what he will,
For true to Tomey I’le be always.

12 ‘And thou must tell him by word of mouth,
If this letter cannot be read at that tyde,
That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
I must be Lord William Fenix bride.’

13 The boy took leave of his lady gay,
And to Strawberry Castle he did him fast hie;
A serving-man did guide him the way
To the place where Tomey o’th Pots did lie.

14 ‘O Christ thee save, good Tomey o’th Pots,
And Christ thee save as I thee see;
Come read this letter, Tomey o’th Potts,
As thy true-love hath sent to thee.’

15 Then Tomey he waxed red in the face,
And trickling tears ran down his eyes;
But never a letter could he read,
If he should be hanged on th’gallow-tree.

16 ‘Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth,
If this letter could not be read at this tide,
That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
She must be Lord William Fenix bride.’

17 ‘Now in faith,’ said Tomey, ’She is mine own,
As all hereafter shall understand;
Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day,
Unless he win her by his own hand.

18 ‘For on Gilforth Green I will her meet,
And if she love me, bid her for me pray;
And there I will lose my life so sweet,
Or else her wedding I will stay.’

19 He cald this boy unto accounts;
Think whether he loved this lady gay!
He gave him forty shilling for his message,
And all he had was but pounds three.

20 The boy took his leave of Tomey o’th Potts,
Fearing that he had staid too late;
The young lady did wait of his comming,
And met him five miles out of the gate.

21 ‘O boney boy, thou art not of age,
Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn;
I will not beleeve what my love hath said,
Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.’

22 ‘Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,’
And kist the book full soon did he:
‘One letter he could not read at that time,
If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree.

23 ‘He said in faith you are his own,
As all hereafter shall understand;
Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day,
Unlesse he winn you with his own hand.

24 ‘For on Gilforth Green he will you meet,
And if you love him, you must for him pray;
And there he will lose his life so sweet,
Or else your wedding he will stay.’

25 Let us leave talking of the boy,
That with his gay lady is turned home;
Now let us go talk of Tomey o’th Potts,
And how to his master he is gone.

26 When Tomey came his master before,
He kneeled down upon his knee:
‘What tidings hast thou brought, my man,
As that thou makes such courtesie?’

27 ‘O Christ you save, dear master,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;
For God’s love, master, come read me this letter,
Which my true love hath sent to me.’

28 His master took this letter in hand,
And looked ore it with his eye;
‘In faith, I am fain, my man,’ he said,
‘As thou hast a lady so true to thee.’

29 ‘I have a lady true to me,
And false to her I’le never be;
But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence,
I must lose my love through povertie.

30 ‘Lord Fenix he will her have,
Because he hath more wealth then I:’
‘Now hold thy tongue, my man,’ he said,
‘For before that day many a one shall die.

31 ‘O Tomey,’ said he, ‘I love thee well,
And something for thee I will doo;
For Strawberry Castle shall be thine own
So long as thou dost mean to woo.

32 ‘One half of my lands I’le give thee a year,
The which will raise thee many a pound;
Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart,
Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground.

33 ‘I have thirty steeds in my stable strong,
Which any of them is good indeed,
And a bunch of spears hangs them among,
And a nag to carry thee swift with speed.

34 ‘My sute of armour thou shalt put on-+-
So well it becomes thy fair body-+-
And when thou comst on Gilford Green
Thou’ll look more like a lord then he.

35 ‘My men shall all rise and with thee go,
And I my self with thee will ride;
And many a bloody wound will we make
Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.’

36 ‘Now Christ reward you, dear master,’ he said,
‘For the good will you bear to me;
But I trust to God, in a little space,
With my own hands to set her free.

37 ‘I’le none of your horses, master,’ he said,
‘For they cannot well skill of their trade;
None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail,
For hee’ll either stand or turn again.

38 ‘One spear, master, and no more,
No more with me that I will take,
And if that spear it will not serve my turn,
I’le suffer death for my true-love’s sake.’

39 Early in the morning, when day did spring,
On Gilforth Green betime was he;
There did he espie Lord Fenix comming,
And with him a royall company.

40 Gold chains about their necks threescore,
Full well might seem fine lords to ride;
The young lady followed far behind,
Sore against her will that she was a bride.

41 There Tomey passed this lady by,
But never a word to her did say;
Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone,
And gives him the right time of the day.

42 ‘O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;’
‘Thou art welcome, Tomey o’th Potts,’ he said,
‘A serving-man into our company.

43 ‘O how doth thy master, Tomy o’th Potts?
Tell me the truth and do not lye;’
‘My master is well,’ then Tomey replide,
‘I thank my lord, and I thank not thee.

44 ‘O Christ you save Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;
You may have choyce of ladies enough,
And not take my true-love from me.’

45 With that Lord Fenix was sore offended,
And fast away he rode at that tide;
‘God forbid,’ Lord Fenix he said,
‘A serving-man should hold me from my bride!’

46 But afterward Tomey did him meet,
As one that came not thither to flye,
And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love,
For I will not lose her cowardly.

47 ‘O meet me here tomorrow,’ he said;
‘As thou art a man, come but thy sell;
And if that I come [with] any more,
The divell fetch my soul to hell.’

48 And so this wedding-day was staid,
The lady and lords they turned home;
The lady made merry her maidens among,
And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own.

49 Early in the morning, when day did spring,
On Gilforth Green betime was he;
He waited long for Lord Fenix comming,
But Lord William Fenix he could not see.

50 He waited long and very long,
Untill the sun waxed very high;
There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming,
And with him other men three.

51 ‘Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
Thou promisedst me to come by thy self,
And thou hast brought other men three.

52 ‘But in regard I call thee thief,
Because thou hast broken promise with me,
I vow, and you were as many more,
Forsaken sure you should not be.’

53 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Fenix said,
‘That every day do wait on me;
If any of them do strike a stroke,
In faith then hanged he shall be.’

54 They fetcht a race and rode about,
And then they met full eagerly;
Lord Fenix away by Tomey’s body glowd,
And he ran him quite thorow the thigh.

55 Out of his saddle bore him he did,
And laid his body on the ground;
His spear he ran thorow Tomey’s thigh,
In which he made a grievous wound.

56 But Tomey quickly start up again;
For as he was a physitian good,
He laid his hand upon the wound,
And quickly he did stanch the blood.

57 Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again,
Forth of it long he did not stay;
For he weighed more of the ladie’s love
Then of any life he had that day.

58 They fetched a race and rode about,
The blood in Tomey’s body began to warm;
He away by Lord Fenix body glowde,
And he ran him quite through the arm.

59 Out of his saddle bore him he hath,
Of from his steed that mounted so high;
‘Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘Or else yeeld the lady unto me.’

60 ‘I’ll yeeld the lady unto thee;
My arm no more my spear will guide;
It was never better likely to prove,
To hold a poor seving-man from his bride.’

61 ‘But if thou wilt thus deal then with me,
Lest of this matter should rise any voice,
That I have gotten the victory,
Then thou shalt have another choice.

62 ‘Yonder is a lane of two miles long;
At either end then stand will we;
Wee’l set the lady in the midst,
And whether she come to, take her, for me.’

63 ‘If thou wilt thus deal,’ said Fenix then,
‘Thou’ll save my credit and honor high;
And whether I win her, or go without her,
I’le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.’

64 There was a lane of two miles long;
The lady was set in the middle that tide;
She laught and made merry her maids among,
And said, Tomey o’th Pots, now I’le be thy bride.

65 Now all you ladies of high degree,
And maides that married yet would be,
Marry no man for goods or lands,
Unlesse you love him faithfully.

66 For I had a love of my own, she said,
At Strawberrie Castle there lived he;
I’le change his name from Tomey o’th Pots,
And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.

110. The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter

Version A

1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter
Came triping on the way,
And there she met a courteous knight,
Which caused her to stay
Sing trang sil do lee

2 ‘Good morrow to you, beautious maid,’
These words pronounced he;
‘O I shall dye this day,’ he said,
‘If I have not my will of thee.’

3 ‘The Lord forbid,’ the maid reply’d,
‘That such a thing should be,
That ever such a courteous yong knight
Should dye for love of me.’

4 He took her by the middle so small,
And laid her down on the plain,
And after he had had his will,
He took her up again.

5 ‘Now you have had your wil, good sir,
And put my body thus to shame,
Even as you are a courteous knight,
Tel me what is your name.’

6 ‘Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart,
And some do call me John,
But when I come to the king’s [fair] court,
They call me Sweet William.’

7 He set his foot in the stirrop,
And away then did he ride;
She tuckt her kirtle about her middle,
And run close by his side.

8 But when she came to the broad water,
She set her brest and swom,
And when she was got out again,
She took her heels and run.

9 He never was the courteous knight
To say, Fair maid, will you ride?
Nor she never was so loving a maid
To say, Sir Knight, abide.

10 But when she came to the king’s fair court,
She knocked at the ring;
So ready was the king himself
To let his fair maid in.

11 ‘O Christ you save, my gracious leige,
Your body christ save and see!
You have got a knight within your court
This day hath robbed me.

12 ‘What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid?
Of purple or of pall?
Or hath he took thy gay gold ring,
From off thy finger small?’

13 ‘He hath not robbed me, my liege,
Of purple nor of pall;
But he hath got my maidenhead,
Which grieves me worst of all.’

14 ‘Now if he be a batchelor,
His body I’le give to thee;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged shall he be.’

15 He called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Sweet William was us’d to be the first,
But now the last comes hee.

16 He brought her down full forty pound,
Ty’d up with[in] a glove:
‘Fair maid, I give the same to the,
And seek another love.’

17 ‘O I’le have none of your gold,’ she said,
‘Nor I’le have none of your fee;
But I must have your fair body
The king hath given me.’

18 Sweet William ran and fetcht her then
Five hundred pound in gold,
Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee;
Thy fault will never be told.

19 ‘’Tis not your gold that shall me tempt,’
These words then answered she,
‘But I must have your own body;
So the king hath granted me.’

20 ‘Would I had drank the fair water
When I did drink the wine,
That ever any shepherd’s daughter
Should be a fair lady of mine!

21 ‘Would I had drunk the puddle-water
When I did drink the ale,
That ever any shepherd’s daughter
Should have told me such a tale!’

22 ‘A shepheard’s daughter as I was,
You might have let me be;
I’d never come to the king’s fair court
To have craved any love of thee.’

23 He set her on a milk-white steed,
And himselfe upon a gray;
He hung a bugle about his neck,
And so they rode away.

24 But when they came unto the place
Where marriage rites were done,
She provd her selfe a duke’s daughter,
And he but a squire’s son.

25 ‘Now you have married me, sir knight,
Your pleasures may be free;
If you make me lady of one good town,
I’le make you lord of three.’

26 ‘Accursed be the gold,’ he said,
‘If thou hadst not bin true,
That should have parted thee from me,
To have chang’d thee for a new.’

27 Their hearts being then so linked fast,
And joyning hand in hand,
He had both purse and person too,
And all at his command.

Version B

1 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter
Kept sheep upon yon hill,
And by cam a gay braw gentleman,
And wad hae had his will.

2 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And laid her on the ground,
And whan he got his will o her
He lift her up again.

3 ‘O syne ye’ve got your will o me,
Your will o me ye’ve taen,
’Tis all I ask o you, kind sir,
Is to tell to me your name.’

4 ‘Sometimes they call me Jack,’ he said,
‘Sometimes they call me John,
But whan I am in the king’s court,
My name is Wilfu Will.’

5 Then he loup on his milk-white steed,
And straught away he rade,
And she did kilt her petticoats,
And after him she gaed.

6 He never was sae kind as say,
O lassie, will ye ride?
Nor ever had she the courage to say,
O laddie, will ye bide!

7 Until they cam to a wan water,
Which was called Clyde,
And then he turned about his horse,
Said, Lassie, will ye ride?

8 ‘I learned it in my father’s hall,
I learned it for my weel,
That whan I come to deep water,
I can swim as it were an eel.

9 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
I learned it for my better,
That whan I come to broad water,
I can swim like ony otter.’

10 He plunged his steed into the ford,
And straught way thro he rade,
And she set in her lilly feet,
And thro the water wade.

11 And whan she cam to the king’s court,
She tirled on the pin,
And wha sae ready’s the king himsel
To let the fair maid in?

12 ‘What is your will wi me, fair maid?
What is your will wi me?’
‘There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.’

13 ‘O has he taen your gold,’ he said,
‘Or has he taen your fee?
Or has he stown your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodye?’

14 ‘He has na taen my gold, kind sir,
Nor as little has he taen my fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodye.’

15 ‘O gif he be a married man,
High hangit shall he be,
But gif he be a bachelor,
His body I’ll grant thee.’

16 ‘Sometimes they call him Jack,’ she said,
‘Sometimes they call him John,
But whan he’s in the king’s court,
His name is Sweet William.’

17 ‘There’s not a William in a’ my court,
Never a one but three,
And one of them is the Queen’s brother;
I wad laugh gif it war he.’

18 The king called on his merry men,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man,
Was the hindmost a’ but three.

19 O he cam cripple, and he cam blind,
Cam twa-fald oer a tree:
‘O be he cripple, or be he blind,
This very same man is he.’

20 ‘O whether will ye marry the bonny may,
Or hang on the gallows-tree?’
‘O I will rather marry the bonny may,
Afore that I do die.’

21 But he took out a purse of gold,
Weel locked in a glove:
‘O tak ye that, my bonny may,
And seek anither love.’

22 ‘O I will hae none o your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor as little ony of your fee,
But I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.’

23 O he took out a purse of gold,
A purse of gold and store;
‘O tak ye that, fair may,’ he said,
‘Frae me ye’ll neer get mair.’

24 ‘O haud your tongue, young man,’ she says,
‘And I pray you let me be;
For I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.’

25 He mounted her on a bonny bay horse,
Himsel on the silver grey;
He drew his bonnet out oer his een,
He whipt and rade away.

26 O whan they cam to yon nettle bush,
The nettles they war spread:
‘O an my mither war but here,’ she says,
‘These nettles she wad sued.’

27 ‘O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd’s dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!’

28 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.’

29 O whan they cam unto yon mill,
She heard the mill clap:
. . . . .
. . . . .

30 ‘Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill,
Weel may thou, I say,
For mony a time thou’s filled my pock
Wi baith oat-meal and grey.’

31 ‘O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd’s dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!’

32 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.

33 ‘But yet I think a fitter match
Could scarcely gang thegither
Than the King of France’s auld dochter
And the Queen of Scotland’s brither.’

Version C

1 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
Bye cam a knicht frae the High College,
And he wad hae his will.

2 Whan he had got his wills o her,
His will as he has taen:
‘Wad ye be sae gude and kind
As tell to me your name?’

3 ‘Some ca’s me Jock, some ca’s me John,
Some disna ken my name,
But whan I’m into the king’s court,
Mitchcock is my name.’

4 ‘Mitchcock! hey!’ the lady did say,
And spelt it oure again;
‘If that’s your name in the Latin tongue,
Earl Richard is your name!’

5 O jumpt he upon his horse,
And said he wad go ride;
Kilted she her green claithing,
And said she wad na bide.

6 The knicht rade on, the lady ran,
A live-lang simmer’s day,
Till they cam to a wan water
Was calld the river Tay.

7 ‘Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may,
Or do ye chuse to ride?’
‘No thank ye, sir,’ the lady said,
‘I rather chuse to wade;’
And afore that he was mid-water,
She was at the ither side.

8 ‘Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may,
My heart will brak in three:’
‘And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.’

9 ‘Whare gat ye that gay claithing
This day I see on thee?’
‘My mither was a gude milk-nurse,
And a gude nourice was she;
She nursd the Earl of Stockford’s daughter,
And gat aw this to me.’

10 Whan she cam to the king’s court,
She rappit wi a ring;
Sae ready as the king himsel
Was to let the lady in!

11 ‘There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me:’
‘O has he taen your gowd,’ he says,
‘Or has he taen your fee?’

12 ‘He has na taen my gowd,’ she says,
‘Nor yet has he my fee;
But he has taen my maiden-head,
The flowr o my fair bodie.’

13 Then out bespak the queen hersel,
Wha sat by the king’s knee:
There’s na a knicht in aw our court
Wad hae dune that to thee,
Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard,
And forbid it it war he!

14 Wad ye ken your love,
Amang a hunder men?
‘I wad,’ said the bonnie ladie,
‘Amang five hunder and ten.’

15 The king made aw his merry men pass,
By ane, by twa, and three;
Earl Richard us’d to be the first man,
But he was hinmost man that day.

16 He cam hauping on ane foot,
And winking with ae ee;
But ‘Ha! ha!’ said the bonnie ladie,
‘That same young man are ye.’

17 He’s taen her up to a hie towr-head
And offerd her hunder punds in a glove:
‘Gin ye be a courteous maid,
Ye’ll choice anither love.’

18 ‘What care I for your hunder pund?
Na mair than ye wad for mine;
What’s a hunder pund to me,
To a marriage wi a king!’

19 Whan the marriage it was oure,
And ilk ane took them horse,
‘It never set a beggar’s brat
At nae knicht’s back to be.’

20 The ladie met wi a beggar-wife,
And gied her half o crown:
‘Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame,
That Earl Richard’s your gude-son.’

21 ‘O hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat,
My heart will brak in three;’
‘And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad na let me be.’

22 Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke,
. . . . .
‘An my auld mither she was here,
Sae weill as she wad ye pu.

23 ‘She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill,
And sup till she war fu,
And lay her head upon her dish-doup,
And sleep like onie sow.’

24 Whan she cam to Earl Richard’s house,
The sheets war holland fine:
‘O haud awa thae linen sheets,
And bring to me the linsey clouts
I hae been best used in.’

25 [‘Awa, awa wi your siller spoons,
Haud them awa frae me;
It would set me better to feed my flocks
Wi the brose-cap on my knee:
Sae bring to me the gude ram’s horn,
The spoons I’ve been used wi.’]

26 ‘Hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat,
My heart will brak in three;’
‘And sae did mine on yon bonnie hillside,
Whan ye wadna lat me be.’

27 ‘I wish I had drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the wine!
Never a shepherd’s dochter
Wad hae been a love o mine.

28 ‘O I wish I’d drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the beer,
That ever a shepherd’s dochter
Shoud hae been my only dear!’

29 ‘Ye’ll turn about, Earl Richard,
And mak some mair o me;
An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow,
I can mak ye laird o three.’

30 ‘If ye be the Earl of Stockford’s dochter,
As I’ve taen some thouchts ye be,
Aft hae I waited at your father’s yett,
But your face I coud never see.’

Version D

110 * * *
AND he was never sae discreet
As bid her loup on and ride,
And she was neer sae meanly bred
As for to bid him bide.

2 And whan she cam to yon water,
It was running like a flude:
‘I’ve learned it in my mither’s bouer,
I’ve learned it for my gude,
That I can soum this wan water
Like a fish in a flude.

3 ‘I’ve learned it in my father’s bouer,
I’ve learned it for my better,
And I will soum this wan water
As tho I was ane otter.’

4 ‘Gude day, gude day, my liege the king,
Gude day, gude day, to thee;’
‘Gude day,’ quoth he, ’My lady fair,
What want ye wi me?’

5 ‘Gin he be a single man,
His bodie I’ll gie thee;
But gin he be a married man,
I’ll hang him on a tree.’

6 He’s powd out a hundred punds,
Weel lockit in a glove;
. . . .
. . . .

7 ‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ she said,
‘Nor either o your fee;
But I will hae your ain bodie
The king has granted me.’

8 ‘O was ye gentle gotten, maid?
Or was ye gentle born?
Or hae ye onie gerss growing?
Or hae ye onie corn?

9 ‘Or hae ye onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie?
Or hae ye onie education,
To dance alang wi me?’

10 ‘I was na gentle gotten, madam,
Nor was I gentle born;
Neither hae I gerss growing,
Nor hae I onie corn.

11 ‘I have na onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie;
Nor hae I onie education,
To dance alang wi thee.’

12 He lap on ae milk-white steed,
And she lap on anither,
And then the twa rade out the way
Like sister and like brither.

13 And whan she cam to Tyne’s water,
She wililie did say,
Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water,
With thee I bid gude-day.

14 Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water,
To you I bid gud-een,
Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock,
Baith at midnicht and at een.

15 Whan they cam to her father’s yett,
She tirled on the pin;
And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there,
As they war entering in.

16 ‘The meetest marriage,’ the belly-blind did cry,
‘Atween the ane and the ither,
Atween the Earl of Stockford’s dochter
And the Queen o England’s brither.’

Version E

1 EARL RICHARD, once upon a day,
And all his valiant men so wight,
He did him down to Barnisdale,
Where all the land is fair and light.

2 He was aware of a damosel-+-
I wot fast on she did her bound-+-
With towers of gold upon her head,
As fair a woman as could be found.

3 He said, Busk on you, fair ladye,
The white flowers and the red;
For I would give my bonnie ship
To get your maidenhead.

4 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all this would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.

5 ‘I have four an twenty mills in Scotland,
Stands on the water of Tay;
You’ll have them, and as much flour
As they’ll grind in a day.’

6 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it will be.

7 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white cows,
All calved in a day;
You’ll have them, and as much haind grass
As they all on can gae.’

8 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.

9 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white steeds,
All foaled in one year;
You’ll have them, and as much red gold
As all their backs can bear.’

10 She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the mold;
‘I would not be your love,’ said she,
‘For that church full of gold.’

11 He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the mess;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have less.

12 She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the moon;
‘I would not be your love,’ says she,
‘For all the gold in Rome.’

13 He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the moon;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have none.

14 He caught her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And there has taken his will of her,
Wholly without her leave.

15 The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd,
And oh, but she thought shame!
Says, If you are a knight at all,
You surely will tell me your name.

16 ‘In some places they call me Jack,
In other some they call me John;
But when into the queen’s court,
O then Lithcock it is my name!’

17 ‘Lithcock! Lithcock!’ the ladye said,
And oft she spelt it ower again;
‘Lithcock! it’s Latin,’ the ladye said,
‘Richard’s the English of that name.’

18 The knight he rode, the ladye ran,
A live-long summer’s day,
Till they came to the wan water
That all men do call Tay.

19 He set his horse head to the water,
Just thro it for to ride,
And the ladye was as ready as him
The waters for to wade.

20 For he had never been as kind-hearted
As to bid the ladye ride,
And she had never been so low-hearted
As for to bid him bide.

21 But deep into the wan water
There stands a great big stone;
He turned his wight horse head about,
Said Ladye fair, will ye loup on?

22 She’s taken the wand was in her hand
And struck it on the faem,
And before he got the middle-stream
The ladye was on dry land:
‘By help of God and our Lady,
My help lyes not in your hand!

23 ‘I learned it from my mother dear,
Few are there that have learned better,
When I come to deep water,
I can swim thro like ony otter.

24 ‘I learned it from my mother dear,
I find I learnd it for my weel,
When I come to a deep water,
I can swim thro like ony eel.’

25 ‘Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair,
You know not what I see;
There is a ladye in that castle
That will burn you and me.’
‘Betide me weel, betide me wae,
That ladye I will see.’

26 She took a ring from her finger,
And gave it the porter for his fee;
Says, Take you that, my good porter,
And bid the queen speak to me.

27 And when she came before the queen,
There she fell low down on her knee;
Says, There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.

28 ‘O has he robbed you of your gold,
Or has he robbed you of your fee?’
‘He has not robbed me of my gold,
He has not robbed me of my fee;
He has robbed me of my maidenhead,
The fairest flower of my bodie.’

29 ‘There is no knight in all my court,
That thus has robbed thee,
But you’ll have the truth of his right hand,
Or else for your sake he’ll die:

30 ‘Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother,
And, Oh, forbid that it be!’
Then sighing said the ladye fair,
I wot the same man is he.

31 The queen called on her merry men,
Even fifty men and three;
Earl Richard used to be the first man,
But now the hindmost man was he.

32 He’s taken out one hundred pounds,
And told it in his glove;
Says, Take you that, my ladye fair,
And seek another love.

33 ‘Oh, no! oh, no!’ the ladye cried,
‘That’s what shall never be;
I’ll have the truth of your right hand,
The queen it gave to me.’

34 [‘I wish I’d drunken your water, sister,
When I did drink thus of your ale,
That for a carl’s fair daughter
It does me gar dree all this bale!]

35 ‘I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,
When I did drink your wine,
That for a carle’s fair daughter
It does gar me dree all this pine!’

36 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?’

37 ‘Will you wear the short clothes,
Or will you wear the side?
Or will you walk to your wedding,
Or will you till it ride?’

38 ‘I will not wear the short clothes,
But I will wear the side;
I will not walk to my wedding,
But I to it will ride.’

39 When he was set upon the horse,
The lady him behin,
Then cauld and eerie were the words
The twa had them between.

40 She said, Good e’en, ye nettles tall,
Just there where ye grow at the dyke;
If the auld carline my mother were here,
Sae weel’s she would your pates pyke!

41 How she would stap you in her poke-+-
I wot at that she wadna fail-+-
And boil ye in her auld brass pan,
And of ye make right good kail!

42 And she would meal you with millering,
That she gathers at the mill,
And make you thick as ony daigh:
And when the pan was brimful,

43 Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes,
Syne bid us sup till we were fou,
Lay down her head upon a poke,
Then sleep and snore like ony sow.

44 ‘Away, away, you bad woman!
For all your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me.

45 ‘I wish I had drunk your water, sister,
When that I did drink of your wine,
Since for a carle’s fair daughter,
It aye gars me dree all this pine.’

46 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the good greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?

47 ‘Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries,
As ye’re growing on yon hill;
If the auld carline and her bags were here,
I wot she would get meat her fill.

48 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty knots;
And in the morn at breakfast time
I’ll carry the keys of an earl’s locks.

49 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty strings;
And if you look to my white fingers,
They have as many gay gold rings.’

50 ‘Away, away, ye ill woman!
So sore your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me.

51 ‘But if you are a carle’s daughter,
As I take you to be,
How did you get the gay cloathing
In greenwood ye had on thee?

52 ‘My mother, she’s a poor woman,
She nursed earl’s chidren three,
And I got them from a foster-sister,
For to beguile such sparks as thee.’

53 ‘But if you be a carle’s daughter,
As I believe you be,
How did you learn the good Latin
In greenwood ye spoke to me?’

54 ‘My mother, she’s a mean woman,
She nursd earl’s children three;
I learnt it from their chaplain,
To beguile such sparks as ye.’

55 When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then Earl Richard and this ladye
In ae bed they were laid.

56 He turned his face unto the stock,
And she her’s to the stane,
And cauld and dreary was the love
That was these twa between.

57 Great mirth was in the kitchen,
Likewise intill the ha,
But in his bed lay Earl Richard,
Wiping the tears awa.

58 He wept till he fell fast asleep,
Then slept till light was come;
Then he did hear the gentlemen
That talked in the room:

59 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match,
Betwixt the ane and ither,
The king of Scotland’s fair dochter
And the queen of England’s brither?

60 ‘And is she the king o Scotland’s fair dochter?
This day, O weel is me!
For seven times has my steed been saddled,
To come to court with thee;
And with this witty lady fair,
How happy must I be!’

Version F

1 EARL LITHGOW he’s a hunting gane,
Upon a summer’s day,
And he’s fa’en in with a weel-far’d maid,
Was gathering at the slaes.

2 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He led her to the foot of a tree,
At her he spierd nae leave.

3 The lassie being well learned,
She turned her right around;
Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir,
As tell to me your name?

4 ‘Whiles they call me Jack,’ he says,
‘And whiles they call me John;
But when I’m in the queen’s high court,
Earl Litchcock is my name.’

5 The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Litchcock is a Latin word,
But Lithgow is your name.

6 The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Lithgow is a gentle word,
But Richard is your name.

7 She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran,
Till at the water o Dee.

8 When they were at the water o Dee,
And at the narrow side,
He turned about his high horse head,
Says, Lassie, will ye ride?

9 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
I wish I had learned it better,
When I came to this wan water,
To swim like ony otter.

10 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
I wish I had learned it weel,
That when I came to a wan water,
To swim like ony eel.’

11 She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, the lassie swam,
Thro the water o Dee:
Before he was at the middle o the water,
At the other side was she.

12 She sat there and drest hersell,
And sat upon a stone;
There she sat to rest hersell,
And see how he’d come on.

13 ‘How mony miles hae ye to ride?
How mony hae I to gang?’
‘I’ve thirty miles to ride,’ he says,
‘And ye’ve as mony to gang.’

14 ‘If ye’ve thirty miles to ride,’ she says,
‘And I’ve as mony to gae,
Ye’ll get leave to gang yoursell;
It will never be gane by me.’

15 She’s gane to the queen’s high court,
And knocked at the pin;
Who was sae ready as the proud porter,
To let this lady in!

16 She’s put her hand in her pocket,
And gien him guineas three:
‘Ye will gang to the queen hersell,
And tell her this frae me.

17 ‘There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady’s bower,
And lay gold on a seam.’

18 He’s gane ben thro ae lang room,
And he’s gane ben thro twa,
Till he came to a lang, lang trance,
And then came to the ha.

19 When he came before the queen,
Sat low down on his knee:
‘Win up, win up, my proud porter,
What makes this courtesie?’

20 ‘There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady’s bower,
And lay gold on a seam.’

21 ‘If there is a lady at my yetts
That cannot card nor spin,
Ye’ll open my yetts baith wide and braid,
And let this lady in.’

22 Now she has gane ben thro ae room,
And she’s gane ben thro twa,
And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance,
Till she came to the ha.

23 When she came before the queen,
Sat low down on her knee:
‘Win up, win up, my fair woman,
What makes such courtesie?’

24 ‘My errand it’s to thee, O queen,
My errand it’s to thee;
There is a man within your courts
This day has robbed me.’

25 ‘O has he taen your purse, your purse,
Or taen your penny-fee?
Or has he taen your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodie?’

26 He hasna taen my purse, my purse,
Nor yet my penny-fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodi’

27 ‘It is if he be a batchelor,
Your husband he shall be;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged he shall be.

28 ‘Except it be my brother, Litchcock,
I hinna will it be he;’
Sighd and said that gay lady,
That very man is he.

29 She’s calld on her merry men a’,
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Litchcock used to be the first,
But the hindmost man was he.

30 He came cripple on the back,
Stane blind upon an ee;
And sighd and said Earl Richard,
I doubt this calls for me.

31 He’s laid down a brand, a brand,
And next laid down a ring;
It’s thrice she minted to the brand,
But she’s taen up the ring:
There’s not a knight in a’ the court,
But calld her a wise woman.

32 He’s taen out a purse of gold,
And tauld it on a stane;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And ye’ll frae me be gane.

33 ‘I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold,
That ye tell on a stane;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘Another I’ll hae nane.’

34 He has taen out another purse,
And tauld it in a glove;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And choice another love.

35 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell in a glove;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘I’ll hae nae ither love.’

36 But he’s taen out another purse,
And tauld it on his knee;
Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman,
Ye’ll get nae mair frae me.

37 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell on your knee;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘The queen has granted it me.’

38 ‘O will ye hae the short claithing,
Or will ye hae the side?
Or will ye gang to your wedding,
Or will ye to it ride?’

39 ‘I winna hae the short claithing,
But I will hae the side;
I winna gang to my wedding,
But to it I will ride.’

40 The first town that they came till
They made the mass be sung,
And the next town that they came till
They made the bells be rung.

41 And the next town that they came till
He bought her gay claithing,
And the next town that they came till
They held a fair wedding.

42 When they came to Mary-kirk,
The nettles grew on the dyke:
‘If my auld mither, the carlin, were here,
Sae well’s she would you pyke.

43 ‘Sae well’s she would you pyke,’ she says,
‘She woud you pyke and pou,
And wi the dust lyes in the mill
Sae woud she mingle you.

44 ‘She’d take a speen intill her hand,
And sup ere she be fou,
Syne lay her head upon a sod,
And snore like ony sow.’

45 When she came to yon mill-dams,
Says, Well may ye clap;
I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you
Wanting mony a lick.

46 He’s drawn his hat out ower his face,
Muckle shame thought he;
She’s driven her cap out ower her locks,
And a light laugh gae she.

47 When they were wedded, and well bedded,
And hame at dinner set,
Then out it spake our bride hersell,
And she spake never blate.

48 Put far awa your china plates,
Put them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my humble gockies,
That I was best used wi.

49 Put far awa your siller speens,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my horn cutties,
That I was best used wi.

50 When they were dined and well served,
And to their dancing set,
Out it spake our bride again,
For she spake never blate.

51 If the auld carlin, my mither, were here,
As I trust she will be,
She’ll fear the dancing frae us a’,
And gar her meal-bags flee.

52 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men bound for rest,
Earl Richard and the beggar’s daughter
In ae chamber were placed.

53 ‘Had far awa your fine claithing,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my fleachy clouts,
That I was best used wi.

54 ‘Had far awa your holland sheets,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my canvas clouts,
That I was best used wi.

55 ‘Lay a pock o meal beneath my head,
Another aneath my feet,
A pock o seeds beneath my knees,
And soundly will I sleep.’

56 ‘Had far awa, ye carlin’s get,
Had far awa frae me;
I disna set a carlin’s get
My bed-fellow to be.’

57 ‘It’s may be I’m a carlin’s get,
And may be I am nane;
But when ye got me in good greenwood,
How letna you me alane?’

58 ‘It is if you be a carlin’s get,
As I trust well ye be,
Where got ye all the gay claithing
You brought to greenwood with thee?’

59 ‘My mother was an auld nourice,
She nursed bairns three;
And whiles she got, and whiles she staw.
And she kept them a’ for me;
And I put them on in good greenwood,
To beguile fause squires like thee.’

60 It’s out then spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, I speak nane out of time;
If ye make her lady o nine cities,
She’ll make you lord o ten.

61 Out it spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, The one may serve the other;
The King of Gosford’s ae daughter,
And the Queen of Scotland’s brother.

62 ‘Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin,
An ill death may ye die!
My bed-fellow he’d been for seven years
Or he’d kend sae muckle frae me.’

63 ‘Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin,
And well may ye aye be!
In my stable is the ninth horse I’ve killd,
Seeking this fair ladie:
Now we’re married, and now we’re bedded,
And in each other’s arms shall lie.’

Version G

1 JOJANET has to the greenwood gane,
Wi a’ her maidens free,
. . . . .
. . . . .

2 ‘Some ca me Jack, some ca me John,
Some ca me Jing-ga-lee,
But when I am in the queen’s court
Earl Hitchcock they ca me.’

3 ‘Hitchcock, Hitchcock,’ Jo Janet she said,
An spelled it ower agane,
‘Hitchcock it’s a Latin word;
Earl Richard is your name.’

4 But when he saw she was book-learned,
Fast to his horse hied he;
But she kilted up her gay claithing,
An fast, fast followed she.

5 Aye he rade, an aye she ran,
The live-lang simmer’s day,
Till they came to the wan water,
An a’ men call it Tay.

6 She has tane the narrow fuird,
An he has tane the wide,
An ere he was in the middle-water,
Jo Janet was at the ither side.

7 . . . . .
. . . .
. . . . .
As swift as eel or otter.

8 An when she cam to the queen’s court
She tirled at the pin,
An wha sae ready as the queen hersel
To let Jo Janet in!

9 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.’

10 ‘Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may,
Or robbed you o your fee?
Or robbed you o your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?’

11 ‘He has nae robbed me o my gold,’ she said,
‘Nor o my weel won fee,
But he has robbed me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.’

12 ‘It’s if he be a married knight,
It’s hanged he shall be;
But if he be a single knight,
It’s married ye sall be.

13 ‘There’s but three knichts into my court
This day hae been frae me,
An ane is Earl Richard, my brither,
An I hope it is na he:’
Then sichin said Jo Janet,
The very same man is he.

14 The queen has called on her merry men
By thirty and by three;
He wont to be the foremost man,
But hinmost in cam he.

15 ‘If this your tricks abroad, Richard,
Is this your tricks abroad,
Wheneer ye meet a bonny may
To lay her on the road?’

16 But he took out a purse o gold,
. . . . .
Says, Tak you that, my bonny may,
An seek nae mair o me.

17 ‘I winna hae your gold,’ she said,
‘I winna hae your fee;
I’ll hae the troth o your right hand
The queen has promised me.’

18 As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town
Sae fair’s the nettles grew;
Quoth she, If my auld mither were here,
Sae finely’s she wad you pu.

19 She wad you nip, she wad you clip,
Sae finely’s she wad you pu,
An pit you on in a wee, wee pat,
An sup till she were fu,
Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail,
An sleep like ony soo.

20 He drew his hat down ower his broos,
An a doon look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.

21 ‘It’s if ye be a beggar’s brat,
As I dout na but ye be,
It’s where gat ye the gay claithing
That hings down to your knee?’

22 ‘My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall’s dother,
An a fine lady is she,
An aye when she gets new claithing
She casts the auld to me:’
An sichin said Earl Richard,
My ain true-love is she!

23 But if you be a beggar’s brat,
As I doutna but ye be,
Where got ye the Latin words
Ye said in greenwood to me?

24 ‘My mither was a bad woman,
She served sic men as thee,
An a’ the gear at ever she got
She waired it a’ on me,
An learned me weel the Latin tongue,
To beguile sic sparks as thee.’

25 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
. . . .
. . . .

26 When they were a’ at supper set,
An siller spoons gaen roun,
It’s, ‘Haud awa yer siller spoons,
Haud them far awa frae me,
An bring to me a guid ramshorn,
The thing I’m best used wi.’

27 An when they were at supper set,
An the ale-caup gaen about,
She took it in her arms twa,
An sae clean’s she lickit it oot.

28 He drew his hat doun ower his broos,
An a doun look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.

29 When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
An a’ men boun to bed,
Earl Richard an Jo Janet
In ae bed they were laid.

30 He turned his face unto the stock,
An sair, sair did he weep;
She turned her face unto the wa,
An sound she fell asleep.

31 . . . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.

32 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match
Atween the tane and the tither,
The Earl Marshall[’s] ae dother
An the Queen o Scotland’s brither?

33 ‘Wae be to you for an ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
For mony’s the mare and mare’s foal
I’ve bursten seekin thee.’

34 . . . a cup o wine,
Quoth, Here’s to thee and me!
If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh,
I’ll mak ye lord o three.

Version H

1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
There came a knight o courage bright,
And he wad have his will. Diddle, ’C..

2 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
Gien her a gown o green;
‘O take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘There’s nae mair o me to be seen.’

3 ‘Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Your wills o me you’ve taen,
Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Pray tell to me your name.’

4 ‘O some they call me Jack, lady,
And others call me John;
But when I’m in the king’s court,
Sweet William is my name.’

5 She’s kilted up her green clothing
A little below her knee,
And she is to the king’s court,
As fast as she could gae.

6 And when she came unto the king,
She knelt low on her knee:
‘There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.’

7 ‘Has he robbd you of your gold,’ he says,
‘Or of your white monie?
Or robbed you of the flowery branch,
The flower of your bodie?’

8 ‘He has not robbd me of my gold,’ she says,
‘Nor of my white monie,
But he’s robbd me of the flowery branch,
The flower of my bodie.’

9 ‘O if he be a bond-man,
High hanged shall he be;
But if he be a free man,
He’se well provide for thee.’

10 The king’s called on his nobles all,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet William should have been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

11 ‘Do you not mind yon shepherd’s daughter,
You met on yonder hill?
When a’ her flocks were feeding round,
Of her you took your will.’

12 And he’s taen out a purse o gold,
And tied up in a glove;
‘Take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘And choice for you a love.’

13 O he’s taen out three hundred pounds,
Tied up in a purse;
‘See, take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘And that will pay the nurse.’

14 ‘I’ll neither have your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor yet your white monie,
But I will have the king’s grant,
That he has granted me.’

15 Then he’s taen her on a milk-white steed,
Himsell upon another,
And to his castle they have rode,
Like sister and like brother.

16 O ilka nettle that they came to,
‘O well mote you grow!
For mony a day’s my minny and me
Pilkit at your pow.’

17 O ilka mill that they came to,
‘O well mote you clack!
For monie a day’s my minnie and me
Buckled up our lap.’

18 ‘You’re the king of England’s ae brother,
I trust well that you be;
I’m the Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter,
And he has nae mair but me.’

19 O saw you eer such a near marriage,
Between the one and the other,
The Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter,
And the King of England’s brother!

Version I

1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
Kept flocks on yonder hill,
And by there cam a courteous knight,
Wud fain and hae his will.

2 ‘Some do ca me Jock,’ he said,
‘And some do ca me John,
But when I do ride i the king’s high court,
Gulelmus is my name.’

3 And when she came to the kinges court
She tirled at the pin,
And wha was there but the king himsel,
To lat this fair maid in!

4 ‘Now Christ you save, my lord,’ she said,
‘Now Christ you save and see;
There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.

5 ‘He’s na robbed me o my silken purse,
Nor o my white money,
But he’s robbed me o my maidenheid,
The flower o my bodie.’

6 ‘O gin he be a single man,
Weel married sall ye be,
But an he be a married man,
He’s hang upon a tree.’

7 Then he called up his merry men a’,
By one, by two, and by three,
And William should a been the first,
But the hindmost man was he.

8 And he cam hirplin on a stick,
And blin upon an ee,
But sighand said that gay ladie,
That same man robbed me.

9 ‘Gin I had drunk the wan water,
When I did drink the wine,
A cairdman’s daughter
Should never be a true-love o mine.’

10 ‘Maybe I’m a cairdman’s daughter,
And maybe I am nane;
But when ye did come to good green wood,
Ye sud hae latten me alane.’

11 She set upon a milk-white steed,
An himsel on a dapple grey,
An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan
’S ye cud ride in a lang simmer’s day.

Version J

110 * * *
‘SOME ca’ss me James, some ca’as me John,
I carena what they ca me,
But when I [am] at hame in my ain country,
It’s Lispcock that they ca me.’

2 The lassie being well beuk-learned,
She spelled it ower again;
Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk
Spells Erl Richard in plain.

3 . . . . .
. . . . .
The lassie kilted up her green claithing,
And fast, fast followed on.

4 Till they cam till a wide water,
. . . . .
He’s turned his hie horse head about,
Says, Lassie will ye ride?

5 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
I wish I’d learned it better,
Whanever I cam to any wide water,
To soum like ony otter.’

6 The laird he chused the ford to ride,
The ladie the pot to swim,
And or the laird was half water,
The ladie was on dry lan.

7 O he rade on to yon hie castell,
He rade it richt and roun about;
The laird gaed in at ae back-door,
But the ladie beet to knock.

8 Out it cam the proud porter,
Wi his hat into his han,
. . . . .
. . . . .

9 She’s pitten her hand in her pocket,
Pulld out guineas three,
And that she’s given to the proud porter,
To cause her to get entrance there.

10 The proud porter ran up the stair,
O fifteen steps he made but three:
‘The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts
That ever my een did see.’

11 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter,
Cause her to cum up to me.’

12 When she gaed in before the queen,
She fell low down on her knee:
‘There is a man into your courts
This day has robbed me.’

13 ‘Has he robbed you o your fine clothing,
Or o your white monie?
Or taen frae you your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?’

14 ‘He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing,
Nor o my white monie,
But he’s taen frae me my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.’

15 ‘O gin he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be;
And gin he be a batchelere,
Well wedded shall ye be.’

16 O she has called in her merry young men,
By thirties and by threes;
Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

17 He cam limpin on a staff,
And blinkin on an ee,
And sichand says that gay ladie,
That samen man is he.

Version K

1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
O by comes a courtier,
And fain wud hae his will.
We’ll go no more a roving,
A roving in the night,
We’ll go no more a roving,
Let the moon shine neer so bright.
O we’ll go [no] more a roving.

2 He took her by the middle so small,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He bended her body unto the ground,
And of her parents he askd no leave.

3 ‘Now since you’ve got your will o me,
And brought my fair bodie to shame,
All the request I ask of you is,
Pray tell me what’s your name.’

4 ‘O some do call me Jack,’ he says,
‘And some do call me John,
But when I am in the king’s court,
My name is Sweet William.’

5 She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle oer her arm,
And she’s awa to the king’s court,
As fast as she could run.

6 When she came to the king’s court,
She tinkled at the ring;
Who was so ready as the king himsel
To let this fair maid in!

7 And when she came before the king,
She kneeled low by his knee;
‘What’s this? what’s this, fair maid,’ he says,
‘What’s this you ask of me?’

8 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.’

9 ‘If he robbed you of your gold,’ he said,
‘It’s hanged he must be;
If he’s robbed you of your maidenhead,
His body I grant to thee.’

10 ‘He’s not robbed me of my gold,’ she said,
‘Nor of my white money,
But he’s robbed me of my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodie.’

11 He’s called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three;
John used to be the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

12 He took a long purse of gold
And wrapped it in a glove:
‘Here’s to thee, my dearest dear,
Go seek some other love.’

13 ‘I’ll have none of your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor any of your white money,
But I’ll just have your own bodie
The king has granted to me.’

14 ‘I wish I was drinking the well-water
When I drank of the ale,
Before a shepherd’s daughter
Would tell me such a tale.’

15 He got her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon a grey,
Then on a day . . .
This couple rode away.

16 It’s when they were coming by the nettle-bush,
She said, So well may you grow!
For many a day my mammy and me
Hae pickled at your pow.

17 When they cam by the mill-door, she said,
So well may you clatter!
For many a day my mammy and me
Pickled at your happer.

18 When they came to the king’s court,
They reckoned up their kin;
She was a king’s one dochter,
And he but a blacksmith’s son.

Version L

110 * * *
‘I LEARNED it in my father’s bower,
And I learned it for the better,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an otter,
With my low silver ee.

2 ‘I learned it in my father’s bower,
And I learned it for my weel,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an eel.’

3 And he cam hirpling on a stick,
And leaning on a tree:
‘Be he cripple, or be he blind,
The same man is he.’

Version M

1 There was a shepherd’s daughter
Kept hogs upo yon hill,
By cam her a gentle knight,
And he would hae his will.

2 Whan his will o her he had,
[His will] as he had taen,
‘Kind sir, for yer courtesy,
Will ye tell me yer name?’

3 ‘Some they ca me Jock,’ he says,
‘And some they ca me John;
But whan ’m in our king’s court
Hitchcock is my name.’

4 They lady being well book-read
She spelt it oer again:
‘Hitchcock in our king’s court
Is Earl Richard at hame.’

5 He pat his leg out-oer his steed
And to the get he’s gane;
She keltit up her green clothing,
And fast, fast followed him.

6 ‘Turn back, turn back, ye carl’s daughter,
And dinna follow me;
It sets na carl’s daughters
Kings’ courts for to see.’

7 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten’s alane.’

8 Whan they cam to yon wan water
That a’ man does call Clyde,
He looket oer his left shuder,
Says, Fair may, will ye ride?

9 ‘I learnt it in my mother’s bowr,
I wis I had learnt it better,
Whan I cam to wan water
To soom as does the otter.’

10 Or the knight was i the middle o the water,
The lady she was oer;
She took out a came o gold,
To came down her yellow hair.

11 ‘Whar gat ye that, ye cerl’s daughter?
I pray ye tell to me:’
‘I got it fra my mither,’ she says,
‘To beguil sick chaps as thee.’

12 Whan they cam to our king’s court,
He rade it round about,
And he gade in at a shot-window,
And left the lady without.

13 She gade to our king hersel,
She fell low down upon her knee:
‘There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.’

14 ‘Has he robbd ye o your goud?
Or o yer well-won fee?
Or o yer maidenhead,
The flower o yer body?’

15 ‘He has na robbd me o my goud,
For I ha nane to gee;
But he has robbd me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my body.’

16 ‘O wud ye ken the knight,’ he says,
‘If that ye did him see?’
‘I wud him ken by his well-fared face
And the blyth blink o his ee.’

17 ‘An he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be,
And an he be a free man,
Well wedded to him ye’s be,
Altho it be my brother Richie,
And I wiss it be no he.’

18 The king called on his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Richmond had used to be the first,
But the hindmost was he.

19 By that ye mith ha well kent
That the quilty man was he;
She took him by the milk-white hand,
Says, This same ane is he.

20 There was a brand laid down to her,
A brand but an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
But she took up the ring;
A’ that was in our king’s court
Countet her a wise woman.

21 ‘I’ll gi ye five hundred pounds,
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.’

22 ‘Gae keep yer five hundred pounds
To mak yer merriage we,
For I’ll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.’

23 ‘I’ll gae ye one thousand pounds
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.’

24 ‘Gae keep yer one thousand pounds,
To mak yer merriage we,
For I’ll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.’

25 He took her down to yon garden,
And clothed her in the green;
Whan she cam up again,
Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.

26 They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire,
The nettles they grew by the dyke:
‘O, an my mither wer her[e],
So clean as she wud them pick!’

27 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘Whan I drank the ale,
That ony cerl’s daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

28 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten’s alane.

29 ‘Well mat this mill be,
And well mat the gae!
Mony a day they ha filled me pock
O the white meal and the gray.’

30 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘When I drank the ale,
That ony cerl’s daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

31 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten’s alane.

32 ‘Tak awa yer siller spoons,
Tak awa fra me,
An gae me the gude horn spoons,
It’s what I’m used tee.

33 ‘O an my mukle dish wer here,
And sine we hit were fu,
I wud sup file I am saerd,
An sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.’

34 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘Whan I drank the ale,
That any cerl’s daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

35 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest,
Ye might ha latten’s alane.’

36 He took his hat in oer his face,
The tear blindit his ee;
She threw back her yellow locks,
And a light laughter leugh she.

37 ‘Bot an ye be a beggar geet,
As I trust well ye be,
Whar gat ye their fine clothing
Yer body was covered we?’

38 ‘My mother was an ill woman,
And an ill woman was she;
She gat them . . . .
Fra sic chaps as thee.’

39 Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
And aa man bound to bed,
Earl Richard and the carl’s daughter
In a chamer were laid.

40 ‘Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl’s daughter,
Yer hot skin burns me;
It sets na carl’s daughters
In earls’ beds to be.’

41 ‘Perhaps I am a carl’s daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten’s alane.’

42 Up it starts the Belly Blin,
Just at their bed-feet.

43 ‘I think it is a meet marrige
Atween the taen and the tither,
The Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter
And the Queen of England’s brither.’

44 ‘An this be the Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gude horse ha I ridden
For the love o thee.’

Version N

1 Ther was a sheperd’s daughter
Keeped hogs upon yon hill,
An by came [t]her a gentell knight,
An he wad haa his will.

2 Fan his will
Of her he had taiin,
‘Kind sir, for your curtisy,
Will ye tell me yer name?’

3 ‘Some they caa me Joke,
An some caa me John,
Bat fan I am in our king’s court
Hichkoke is my name.’

4 The lady bieng well book-read
She spealled it our agen:
‘Hichkoke in Latin
Is Earl Richerd att heam.’

5 He patt his liag out-our his stead
An to the gate has gain;
She kilted up her green clathing
An fast folloued she.

6 ‘Turn back, ye carl’s dother,
An dinn follou me;
It setts no carl’s dothers
King’s courts to see.’

7 ‘Perhaps I am a carle’s dother,
Perhaps I am nean,
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye sud haa latten alean.’

8 Fan they came to yon wan water
That a’ man cas Clide,
He luked our his left shoulder,
Says, Fair maid, will ye ride?

9 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bour,
I watt I learned it well,
Fan I came to wan water
To soum as dos the eall.

10 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bour,
I wiss I had learned it better,
Fan I came to wan watter
To sume as dos the otter.’

11 She touk a golden comb,
Combed out her yallou hear,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

12 ‘Far gatt ye that, ye carl’s dother,
I pray ye tell to me;’
‘I gatt it fra my mither,’ she says,
‘To begulle sick sparks as ye.’

13 ‘Gin ye be a carl’s gett,
As I trou well ye be,
Far gatt ye a’ that fine clothing,
To cloath yer body we?’

14 ‘My mother was an ill woman,
An ill woman was she,
An she gatt a’ that fine clathing,
Frae sick chaps as ye.’

15 Fan they came to our king’s court,
She fell lou doun on her knee:
‘Win up, ye fair may,
What may ye want we me?’
‘Ther is a knight in your court
This day has robbed me.’

16 ‘Has he robbed you of your goud?
Or of your whit monie?
Or of your meadnhead,
The flour of your body?’

17 ‘He has no robbed me of my goud,
Nor yet of my fiee,
Bat he has robed me of my madinhead,
The flour of my body.’

18 ‘Wad ye keen the knight,
If ye did him see?’
‘I wad keen him well by his well-fared face
An the blieth blink of his eay.’
An sighan says the king,
I wiss it bin my brother Richie!

19 The king called on his merry men a’,
By an, by tua, by three;
Earl Richerd had ay ben the first,
Bat the last man was he.

20 By that ye might a well kent
The gulty man was he;
She took him by the hand,
Says, That same is hee.

21 Ther was a brand laid doun to her,
A brand batt an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
Bat she took up the ring;
A’ that was in the court
’S counted her a wise woman.

22 ‘I will gee ye five hundred pound,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gie hame, ye carl’s dother,
An fash na mare we me.’

23 ‘Ye keep yer five hundred pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I will ha nathing bat yer sell,
The king he promised me.’

24 ‘I ill gee ye a thousand poun,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gae hame, ye carl’s gett,
An fash na mare we me.’

25 ‘Ye keep yer thousand pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell,
The king he promised me.’

26 He toke her doun
An clothed her in green;
Fan she cam up,
She was fairer then the quin.

27 Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk,
The nettels grue by dike:
‘O gin my midder war hear,
Sai clean as she wad them peak!’

28 He drue his hat out-our his eayn,
The tear blinded his eay;
She drue back her yallou loaks,
An a light laughter luke she.

29 Fan she came by yon mill-toun,
. . . . . .
‘O well may the mill goo,
An well matt she be!
For aften ha ye filled my poke
We the whit meall an the gray.’

30 ‘I wiss I had druken the water
Fan I drank the aill,
Or any carl’s dother
Suld ha tald me siken a teall.’

31 ‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,
Perhaps I am nean;
Fan ye gatt me in frie forest,
Ye sud ha latten alean.

32 ‘Take awa yer silver spons,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons,
Them I am best used we.

33 ‘Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me a mukell dish
I am best used we.

34 ‘For if I had my mukel dish hear,
An sayn an it war fou,
I wad sup till I war sared,
An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.

35 ‘Ye take away yer hollan shits,
Far awa fra me,
An ye bring me a cannas,
It’s the thing I ben eased we.’

36 Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung,
An a’ man boun to bed,
Earl Richerd an the carl’s dother
In a bed [were laid].

37 ‘Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl’s dother,
Your hot skin . . me;
It setts na carl’s dothers
In earls’ beds to be.’

38 ‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,
Perhaps I am nean;
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might a latten alean.’

39 Up starts the Bellie Blind,
Att ther bed-head:
‘I think it is a meatt marrage
Betuen the ane an the eather,
The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter
An the Quien of England’s brother.’

40 ‘If this be the Earl of Heartfourd’s ae doughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gued hors have I redden
For the love of the.’

Version O

1 There was a shepherd’s daughter
Who kept sheep on yon hill;
There came a young man riding by,
Who swore he’d have his will.

1 Fol lol lay
Fol lol di diddle lol di day

2 He took her by the lilly-white hand
And by her silken sleeve,

3 Or tell to me your name.

4 ‘Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,
And some they call me Will,
But when I ride the king’s high-gate
My name is sweet William.’

4 But name,

Version P

1 ’Tis said a shepherd’s ae daughter
Kept sheep upon a hill,
An by there cam a courteous knight,
An he wad hae his will.

2 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand
An by the grass-green sleeve,
He’s laid her doon at the fit o a bush,
An neer ance speired her leave.

111. Crow and Pie

1 THROUGHE a forest as I can ryde,
To take my sporte yn an mornyng,
I cast my eye on euery syde,
I was ware of a bryde syngynge.

2 I sawe a faire mayde come rydyng;
I speake to hur of loue, I trowe;
She answered me all yn scornyng,
And sayd, The crowe shall byte yow.

3 ‘I pray yow, damesell, scorne me nott;
To wyn your loue ytt ys my wyll;
For your loue I haue dere bought,
And I wyll take good hede thertyll.’

4 ‘Nay, for God, ser, that I nyll;
I tell the, Jenken, as I trowe,
Thou shalt nott fynde me suche a gyll;
Therfore the crowe shall byte yow.’

5 He toke then owt a good golde ryng,
A purse of velweytt, that was soo fyne:
‘Haue ye thys, my dere swetyng,
With that ye wylbe lemman myn.’

6 ‘Be Cryst, I dare nott, for my dame,
To dele with hym that I doo nott knowe;
For soo I myght dyspyse my name;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’

7 He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
That was soo faire of hyde and hewe;
He kyssed hur cheke as whyte as whall,
And prayed hur that she wolde vpon hym rewe.

8 She scornyd hym, and callyd hym Hew;
His loue was as a paynted blowe:
‘To-day me, to-morrowe a newe;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’

9 He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
And layd hur downe vpon the grene;
Twys or thrys he served hur soo withall,
He wolde nott stynt yet, as I wene.

10 ‘But sythe ye haue i-lyen me bye,
Ye wyll wedde me now, as I trowe:’
‘I wyll be aduysed, Gyll,’ sayd he,
‘For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.’

11 ‘But sythe ye haue i-leyn me by,
And brought my body vnto shame,
Some of your good ye wyll part with me,
Or elles, be Cryst, ye be to blame.’

12 ‘I wylbe aduysed,’ he sayde;
‘THe wynde ys wast that thow doyst blowe;
I haue a-noder that most be payde;
Therfore the pye hathe pecked yow.’

13 ‘Now sythe ye haue i-leyn me bye,
A lyttle thyng ye wyll tell;
In case that I with chylde be,
What ys your name? Wher doo ye dwell?’

14 ‘At Yorke, at London, at Clerkenwell,
At Leycester, Cambryge, at myrye Brystowe;
Some call me Rychard, Robart, Jacke, and Wyll;
For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.

15 ‘But, all medons, be ware be rewe,
And lett no man downe yow throwe;
For and yow doo, ye wyll ytt rewe,
For then the pye wyll pecke yow.’

16 ‘Farewell, corteor, ouer the medoo,
Pluke vp your helys, I yow beshrew!
Your trace, wher so euer ye ryde or goo,
Crystes curse goo wythe yow!

17 ‘Thoughe a knave hathe by me layne,
Yet am I noder dede nor slowe;
I trust to recouer my harte agayne,
And Crystes curse goo wythe yow!’

112. Blow Away the Morning Dew

Version A

1 YONDER comes a courteous knight,
Lustely raking ouer the lay;
He was well ware of a bonny lasse,
As she came wandring ouer the way.
Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (bis)

2 ‘Ioue you speed, fayre lady,’ he said,
‘Among the leaues that be so greene;
If I were a king, and wore a crowne,
Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen.

3 ‘Also Ioue saue you, faire lady,
Among the roses that be so red;
If I haue not my will of you,
Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.’

4 Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west,
Hee lookt north, so did he south;
He could not finde a priuy place,
For all lay in the diuel’s mouth.

5 ‘If you will carry me, gentle sir,
A mayde vnto my father’s hall,
Then you shall haue your will of me,
Vnder purple and vnder paule.’

6 He set her vp vpon a steed,
And him selfe vpon another,
And all the day he rode her by,
As though they had been sister and brother.

7 When she came to her father’s hall,
It was well walled round about;
She yode in at the wicket-gate,
And shut the foure-eard foole without.

8 ‘You had me,’ quoth she, ‘abroad in the field,
Among the corne, amidst the hay,
Where you might had your will of mee,
For, in good faith, sir, I neuer said nay.

9 ‘Ye had me also amid the field,
Among the rushes that were so browne,
Where you might had your will of me,
But you had not the face to lay me downe.’

10 He pulled out his nut-browne sword,
And wipt the rust off with his sleeue,
And said, Ioue’s curse come to his heart
That any woman would beleeue!

11 When you haue you owne true-loue
A mile or twaine out of the towne,
Spare not for her gay clothing,
But lay her body flat on the ground.

Version B

1 THERE was a knight, and he was young,
A riding along the way, sir,
And there he met a lady fair,
Among the cocks of hay, sir.

2 Quoth he, Shall you and I, lady,
Among the grass lye down a?
And I will have a special care
Of rumpling of your gown a.

3 ‘If you will go along with me
Unto my father’s hall, sir,
You shall enjoy my maidenhead,
And my estate and all, sir.’

4 So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon another,
And then they rid upon the road,
Like sister and like brother.

5 And when she came to her father’s house,
Which was moated round about, sir,
She stepped streight within the gate,
And shut this young knight out, sir.

6 ‘Here is a purse of gold,’ she said,
‘Take if for your pains, sir;
And I will send my father’s man
To go home with you again, sir.

7 ‘And if you meet a lady fair,
As you go thro the next town, sir,
You must not fear the dew of the grass,
Nor the rumpling of her gown, sir.

8 ‘And if you meet a lady gay,
As you go by the hill, sir,
If you will not when you may,
You shall not when you will, sir.’

Version C

1 THERE was a knight was drunk with wine
A riding along the way, sir,
And there he did meet with a lady fine,
And among the cocks of hay, sir.

2 One favour he did crave of her,
And askd her to lay her down, sir,
But he had neither cloth nor sheet,
To keep her from the ground, sir.

3 ‘There is a great dew upon the grass,
And if you shoud lay me down, sir,
You would spoil my gay clothing,
That has cost me many a pound, sir.’

4 ‘I have a cloak of scarlet red,
I’ll lay it under you, love,
So you will grant me my request
That I shall ask of you, love.’

5 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s hall,
That is moated all round about, sir,
There you shall have your will of me,
Within, sir, and without, sir.

6 ‘Oh yonder stands my milk-white steed,
And among the cocks of hay, sir;
If the king’s pinner should chance to come,
He’ll take my steed away, sir.’

7 ‘I have a ring upon my finger,
It’s made of the finest gold, love,
And it shall serve to fetch your steed
Out of the pinner’s fold, love.’

8 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s house,
Round which there’s many a tree, sir,
There you shall have your chamber free,
And your chamberlain I’ll be, sir.’

9 He sate her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon another,
And then they rid along the way,
Like sister and like brother.

10 But when she came to her father’s house,
Which was moated all round about, sir,
She slipd herself within the gate,
And she lockd the knight without, sir.

11 ‘I thank you, kind knight, for seeing me here,
And bringing me home a maiden, sir,
But you shall have two of my father’s men
For to set you as far back again, sir.’

12 He drew his sword out of his scabbard,
And whet it upon his sleeve, sir,
Saying, Cursed be to evry man
That will a maid believe, sir!

13 She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket,
And threw it upon the ground, sir,
Saying, Thrice cursed be to evry maid
That will believe a man, sir!

14 We have a tree in our garden,
Some call it of rosemary, sir;
There’s crowing-cocks in our town,
That will make a capon of you, sir.

15 We have a flower in our garden,
Some call it a marygold, sir,
And he that would not when he might,
He shall not when he would, sir.

16 But if you chance for to meet a maid,
A little below the town, sir,
You must not fear her gay cloathing,
Nor the wrinkling of her gown, sir.

17 And if you chance for to meet a maid,
A little below the hill, sir,
You need not fear her screeking out,
For she quickly will lye still, sir.

18 The baffld knight was by the lass
Ingeniously outwitted,
And since that time it came to pass
He was again well fitted.

19 As he was riding cross a plain,
In boots, spurs, hat and feather,
He met that lady fair again;
They talkd a while together.

20 He said, Tho you did serve me so,
And cunningly decoy me,
Yet now, before you further go,
I must and will enjoy thee.

21 RR’rrtwas near a spacious river’s side,
Where rushes green were growing,
And Neptune’s silver streams did glide,
Four fathom waters flowing.

22 The lady blushd like scarlet red,
And trembled at this stranger:
‘How shall I guard my maidenhead
From this approaching danger!’

23 With a lamenting sigh, said she,
To dye I now am ready;
Must this dishonour fall on me?
A most unhappy lady!

24 He from his saddle did alight,
In gaudy rich attire,
And cried, I am a noble knight,
Who do your charms admire.

25 He took the lady by the hand,
Who seemingly consented,
And woud no more disputing stand:
She had a plot invented.

26 How she might baffle him again,
With much delight and pleasure,
And eke unspotted still remain,
With her pure virgin treasure.

27 ‘Look yonder, good sir knight, I pray:
Methinks I do discover,
Well mounted on a dapple-grey,
My true, entire lover.’

28 The knight, he standing on the brink
Of the deep floating river,
Thought she, Thou now shalt swim or sink;
Choose which you fancy rather.

29 Against his back the lady run;
The waters strait he sounded;
He cry’d out, Love, what have you done!
Help! help! or I am drowned.

30 Said she, Sir knight, farewel, adieu;
You see what comes of fooling;
That is the fittest place for you,
Whose courage wanted cooling.

31 ‘Love help me out, and I’ll forgive
This fault which you’ve committed;
‘No, no,’ says she, ’Sir, as I live,
I think you’re finely fitted.’

32 She rid home to her father’s house,
For speedy expedition,
While the gay knight was soakd like souce,
In a sad wet condition.

33 1 When he came mounted to the plain
He was in rich attire,
Yet when he back returnd again
He was all muck and mire.
Yet when he back returnd again
He was all muck and mire.

34 A solemn vow he there did make,
Just as he came from swiming,
He’d love no lady, for her sake,
Nor any other women.

35 The baffld knight was foold once more,
You’ll find by this pleasant ditty,
For she whose charms he did adore
Was wonderful sharp and witty.

36 Returning from her father’s park,
Just close by a summer bower,
She chanc’d to meet her angry spark,
Who gave her a frowning lower.

37 The thoughts of what she twice had done
Did cause him to draw his rapier,
And at the lady then he run,
And thus he began to vapour:

38 ‘You chousd me at your father’s gate,
Then tumbld me into the river;
I seek for satisfaction straight;
Shall I be a fool forever?’

39 He came with resolution bent
That evening to enjoy her,
And if she did not give consent,
That minute he would destroy her.

40 ‘I pray, sir knight, and why so hot
Against a young silly woman?
Such crimes as these might be forgot;
For merry intrigues are common.’

41 ‘What! do you count it mirth,’ he cry’d,
‘To tumble me in and leave me?
What if I drowned there had dy’d?
A dangerous jest, believe me.

42 ‘Well, if I pardon you this day
Those injuries out of measure,
It is because without delay
I mean to enjoy the pleasure.’

43 ‘Your suit,’ she said, ’is not deny’d,
But think of your boots of leather,
And let me pull them off,’ she cry’d,
‘Before we lye down together.’

44 He set him down upon the grass,
And violets so sweet and tender;
Now by this means it came to pass
That she did his purpose hinder.

45 For having pulld his boots half-way,
She cry’d, I am now your betters;
You shall not make of me your prey;
Sit there, like a thief in fetters.

46 Now finding she had servd him so,
He rose and began to grumble;
Yet he could neither stand nor go,
But did like a cripple tumble.

47 The boots stuck fast, and would not stir;
His folly she soon did mention,
And laughing said, I pray, kind sir,
How like you my new invention?

48 My laughing fit you must excuse;
You are but a stingless nettle;
You’d neer a stood for boots or shooes,
Had you been a man of mettle.

49 Farewel, sir knight, ’tis almost ten;
I fear neither wind nor weather;
I’ll send my father’s serving-men
To pull off your boots of leather.

50 She laughed outright, as well she might,
With merry conceits of scorning,
And left him there to sit all night,
Untill the approaching morning.

51 The fourth part of the baffld knight
The lady hath fairly acted;
She did his love and kindness slight,
Which made him almost distracted.

52 She left him in her father’s park,
Where nothing but deer could hear him;
While he lay rouling in the dark,
There’s never a soul came near him.

53 Until the morning break of day,
And being warm summer weather,
A shepherd chanc’d to come that way,
Who pulld on his boots of leather.

54 Then mounting on his milk-white steed,
He, shaking his ears, was ready,
And whip and spur he rid with speed
To find out this crafty lady.

55 ‘If once this lady I come nigh
She shall be released by no man:
Why shoud so brave a knight as I
Be foold by a silly woman!

56 ‘Three times she has affronted me,
In crimes which I cannot pardon;
But if I an’t revengd,’ said he,
‘Let me not be worth a farthing.

57 ‘I value not her beauty fair,
Tho once I did dote upon her;
This trusty sword shall now repair
My baffled, blasted honour.’

58 Unto her father’s house he came,
Which every side was moated;
The fair sweet youthful charming dame,
His angry brows she noted.

59 Thought she, I’ll have the other bout,
And tumble him in the river;
And let the Devil help him out,
Or there he shall soak for ever.

60 He will not let me live at rest,
Although I have often foild him;
Therefore once more, I do protest,
With flattering I’ll beguile him.

61 The bridge was drawn, the gates lockd fast,
So that he could no ways enter;
She smil’d to him, and cry’d at last,
Sir knight, if you please to venture,

62 A plank lies over the moat hard by,
Full seventeen foot in measure;
There’s no body now at home but I;
Therefore we’ll take our pleasure.

63 This word she had no sooner spoke,
But straight he was tripping over;
The plank was sawd, and snapping broke;
He provd an unhappy lover.

Version D

1 THERE was a shepherd’s son
Kept sheep upon a hill;
He laid his pipe and crook aside,
And there he slept his fill.
Sing, Fal deral, etc.

2 He looked east, he looked west,
Then gave an under-look,
And there he spyed a lady fair,
Swimming in a brook.

3 He raisd his head frae his green bed,
And then approachd the maid;
‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
‘And be ye not afraid.

4 ‘RR’rrtis fitter for a lady fair
To sew her silken seam
Than to get up in a May morning
And strive against the stream.’

5 ‘If you’ll not touch my mantle,
And let my claiths alane,
Then I’ll give you as much money
As you can carry hame.’

6 ‘O I’ll not touch your mantle,
And I’ll let your claiths alane;
But I’ll tak you out of the clear water,
My dear, to be my ain.’

7 And when she out of the water came,
He took her in his arms:
‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
‘And hide those lovely charms.’

8 He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon anither,
And all along the way they rode,
Like sister and like brither.

9 When she came to her father’s yate
She tirled at the pin,
And ready stood the porter there,
To let this fair maid in.

10 And when the gate was opened,
So nimbly’s she whipt in;
‘Pough! you’re a fool without,’ she says,
‘And I’m a maid within.

11 ‘Then fare ye well, my modest boy,
I thank you for your care;
But had you done what you should do,
I neer had left you there.’

12 ‘Oh I’ll cast aff my hose and shoon,
And let my feet gae bare,
And gin I meet a bonny lass,
Hang me if her I spare.’

13 ‘In that do as you please,’ she says,
‘But you shall never more
Have the same opportunity;’
With that she shut the door.

14 There is a gude auld proverb,
I’ve opten heard it told,
He that would not when he might,
He should not when he would.

Version E

1 THERE was a knight, was drunk with wine,
Came riding along the way, sir;
He would have had a lady gay
Amang the quiles of hay, sir.

2 ‘What if I should lay thee down,
Amang the quiles of hay, maid?
Sheets nor blankets have I none,
To keep thy cloathing clean, maid.’

3 ‘The wind blaws east, the wind blaws west,
The wind blaws owre yon thorn, sir;
Weel may I wash my cloathing clear,
And dry them on the morn, sir.’

4 ‘What if I should lay thee down,
Amang the rigs of corn, maid?
Then the king’s life-guard will come,
And steal our steeds away, maid.’

5 ‘I have ten gold rings on my hand,
They’re all gold but the stone, sir;
I’ll give them to the king’s life-guard,
If he’ll let our steeds alone, sir.

6 ‘But see you not yon sunny bank,
Over yon lily lea, sir,
Where you and I may crack a while,
And never one may see, sir?’

7 He was on a milk-white steed,
And she was on another,
And all the live-long winter night
They rode like sister and brother.

8 When they came to that sunny bank,
He began to lay her down, sir;
‘O no, O no, kind sir,’ she says,
‘Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir.

9 ‘My gown it cost my father dear,

146 many a mark and pound, sir;
And if that ye do lay me down,
Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir.

10 ‘But see ye na yon fair castel,
Over yon lily lea, sir,
Where you and I may crack a while,
And never one may see, sir?’

11 He was on a milk-white steed,
And she was on another,
And all the live-long winter night
They rode like sister and brother.

12 When they came to that fair castel,
She was at her father’s yet, sir;
She jumped in at her father’s door,
And left this knight without, sir.

13 She says, I am a maid within,
You’re but a knave without, sir;
There were neer a butcher’s son
Put me in so much doubt, sir.

14 ‘Oh if I had thee out,’ he said,
‘But two miles from the town, maid,
I would lay thee down,’ he said,
‘And never mind thy gown, maid.’

15 ‘There is a flower in my father’s garden,
The name o’t marigold, sir,
And he that would not when he might,
He shall not when he wold, sir.

16 ‘But when eer ye meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from a town, sir,
Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
And never mind her gown, sir.

17 ‘Ye’re like unto my father’s steed;
He’s standing in the lone, sir;
He hings his head above the sheaf,
But daur not venture on, sir.

18 ‘When eer ye meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from the town, sir,
Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
‘And never mind her gown, sir.

19 ‘There is a cock in my father’s flock,
He wears a double comb, sir,
He claps his wings, but craweth not;
I fear you be like him, sir.

20 ‘But when eer you meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from a town, sir,
You may lay her down,’ she said,
‘And never mind her gown, sir.’

113. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry

1 AN eartly nourris sits and sing,
And aye she sings, Ba, lily wean!
Little ken I my bairnis father,
Far less the land that he staps in.

2 Then ane arose at her bed-fit,
An a grumly guest I’m sure was he:
‘Here am I, thy bairnis father,
Although that I be not comelie.

3 ‘I am a man, upo the lan,
An I am a silkie in the sea;
And when I’m far and far frae lan,
My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’

4 ‘It was na weel,’ quo the maiden fair,
‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo she,
‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie
Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.’

5 Now he has taen a purse of goud,
And he has pat it upo her knee,
Sayin, Gie to me my little young son,
An tak thee up thy nourris-fee.

6 An it sall come to pass on a simmer’s day,
When the sin shines het on evera stane,
That I will tak my little young son,
An teach him for to swim the faem.

7 An thu sall marry a proud gunner,
An a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be,
An the very first schot that ere he schoots,
He’ll schoot baith my young son and me.

114. Johnie Cock

Version A

1 JOHNY he has risen up i the morn,
Calls for water to wash his hands;
But little knew he that his bloody hounds
Were bound in iron bands. bands
Were bound in iron bands

2 Johny’s mother has gotten word o that,
And care-bed she has taen:
‘O Johny, for my benison,
I beg you’l stay at hame;
For the wine so red, and the well baken bread,
My Johny shall want nane.

3 ‘There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side,
At Pickeram where they dwell,
And for a drop of thy heart’s bluid
They wad ride the fords of hell.’

4 Johny he’s gotten word of that,
And he’s turnd wondrous keen;
He’s put off the red scarlett,
And he’s put on the Lincolm green.

5 With a sheaf of arrows by his side,
And a bent bow in his hand,
He’s mounted on a prancing steed,
And he has ridden fast oer the strand.

6 He’s up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee,
And under a buss o broom,
And there he found a good dun deer,
Feeding in a buss of ling.

7 Johny shot, and the dun deer lap,
And she lap wondrous wide,
Until they came to the wan water,
And he stemd her of her pride.

8 He ’as taen out the little pen-knife,
’Twas full three quarters long,
And he has taen out of that dun deer
The liver bot and the tongue.

9 They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood,
And the blood it was so sweet,
Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds
To fall in a deep sleep.

10 By then came an old palmer,
And an ill death may he die!
For he’s away to Pickram Side,
As fast as he can drie.

11 ‘What news, what news?’ says the Seven Forsters,
‘What news have ye brought to me?’
‘I have noe news,’ the palmer said,
‘But what I saw with my eye.

12 ‘High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee,
And under a buss of scroggs,
O there I spied a well-wight man,
Sleeping among his dogs.

13 ‘His coat it was of light Lincolm,
And his breeches of the same,
His shoes of the American leather,
And gold buckles tying them.’

14 Up bespake the Seven Forsters,
Up bespake they ane and a’:
O that is Johny o Cockleys Well,
And near him we will draw.

15 O the first y stroke that they gae him,
They struck him off by the knee;
Then up bespake his sister’s son:
’O the next ’ll gar him die!’

16 ‘O some they count ye well-wight men,
But I do count ye nane;
For you might well ha wakend me,
And askd gin I wad be taen.

17 ‘The wildest wolf in aw this wood
Wad not ha done so by me;
She’d ha wet her foot ith wan water,
And sprinkled it oer my brae,
And if that wad not ha wakend me,
She wad ha gone and let me be.

18 ‘O bows of yew, if ye be true,
In London, where ye were bought,
Fingers five, get up belive,
Manhuid shall fail me nought.’

19 He has killd the Seven Forsters,
He has killd them all but ane,
And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side,
To carry the bode-words hame.

20 ‘Is there never a boy in a’ this wood
That will tell what I can say;
That will go to Cockleys Well,
Tell my mither to fetch me away?’

21 There was a boy into that wood,
That carried the tidings away,
And many ae was the well-wight man
At the fetching o Johny away.

Version B

1 FIFTEEN foresters in the Braid alow,
And they are wondrous fell;
To get a drop of Johnny’s heart-bluid,
They would sink a’ their souls to hell.

2 Johnny Cock has gotten word of this,
And he is wondrous keen;
He[’s] custan off the red scarlet,
And on the Linkum green.

3 And he is ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high,
Till he came to yon wan water,
And there Johnny Cock did lie.

4 They have ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high,
Till they met wi’ an old palmer,
Was walking along the way.

5 ‘What news, what news, old palmer?
What news have you to me?’
‘Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons
That ever my eyes did see.’

6 He’s taen out a horn from his side,
And he blew both loud and shrill,
Till a’ the fifteen foresters
Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.

7 They have sworn a bluidy oath,
And they swore all in one,
That there was not a man among them a’
Would blaw such a blast as yon.

8 And they have ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high,
Till they came to yon wan water,
Where Johnny Cock did lie.

9 They have shotten little Johnny Cock,
A little above the ee:
. . . . .
‘For doing the like to me.

10 ‘There’s not a wolf in a’ the wood
Woud ’ha’ done the like to me;
’She’d ha’ dipped her foot in coll water,
And strinkled above my ee,
And if I would not have waked for that,
’She’d ha’ gane and let me be.

11 ‘But fingers five, come here, [come here,]
And faint heart fail me nought,
And silver strings, value me sma things,
Till I get all this vengeance rowght!’

12 He ha[s] shot a’ the fifteen foresters,
Left never a one but one,
And he broke the ribs a that ane’s side,
And let him take tiding home.

13 ’. . . a bird in a’ the wood
Could sing as I could say,
It would go in to my mother’s bower,
And bid her kiss me, and take me away.’

Version C

1 JOHNNY COCK, in a May morning,
Sought water to wash his hands,
And he is awa to louse his dogs,
That’s tied wi iron bans.
That’s tied wi iron bans.

2 His coat it is of the light Lincum green,
And his breiks are of the same;
His shoes are of the American leather,
Silver buckles tying them.

3 ’He’ hunted up, and so did ’he’ down,
Till ’he’ came to yon bush of scrogs,
And then to yon wan water,
Where he slept among his dogs.

4 Johnny Cock out-shot a’ the foresters,
And out-shot a the three;
Out shot a’ the foresters,
Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.

5 ‘Woe be to you, foresters,
And an ill death may you die!
For there would not a wolf in a’ the wood
Have done the like to me.

6 ‘For’ ’twould ha’ put its foot in the coll water
And ha strinkled it on my bree,
And gin that would not have done,
Would have gane and lett me be.

7 ‘I often took to my mother
The dandoo and the roe,
But now I’l take to my mother
Much sorrow and much woe.

8 ‘I often took to my mother
The dandoo and the hare,
But now I’l take to my mother
Much sorrow and much care.’

Version D

1 UP Johnie raise in a May morning,
Calld for water to wash his hands,
And he has calld for his gude gray hunds,
That lay bund in iron bands. bands
That lay bund in iron bands

2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs,
Ye’ll busk and mak them boun,
For I’m going to the Braidscaur hill,
To ding the dun deer doun.’

3 Whan Johnie’s mither gat word o that,
On the very bed she lay,
Says, Johnie, for my malison,
I pray ye at hame to stay.

4 Your meat sall be of the very, very best,
Your drink sall be the same,
And ye will win your mither’s benison,
Gin ye wad stay at hame.

5 But Johnie has cast aff the black velvet,
And put on the Lincoln twine,
And he is on to gude greenwud,
As fast as he could gang.

6 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak,
He’s aff, and left the toun,
He’s aff unto the Braidscaur hill,
To ding the dun deer doun.

7 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
And he lookit aneath the sun,
And there he spied the dun deer sleeping,
Aneath a buss of whun.

8 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he’s scaithed him in the side,
And atween the water and the wud
He laid the dun deer’s pride.

9 They ate sae meikle o the venison,
And drank sae meikle o the blude,
That Johnie and his twa gray hunds
Fell asleep in yonder wud.

10 By ther cam a silly auld man,
And a silly auld man was he,
And he’s aff to the proud foresters,
As fast as he could dree.

11 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
What news? come tell to me:’
‘I heard na news, I speird na news
But what my een did see.

12 ‘As I cam in by Braidisbanks,
And doun amang the whuns,
The bonniest youngster eer I saw
Lay sleepin amang his hunds.

13 ‘His cheeks war like the roses red,
His neck was like the snaw;
His sark was o the holland fine,
And his jerkin lac’d fu braw.’

14 Up bespak the first forester,
The first forester of a’:
O this is Johnie o Cockerslee;
Come draw, lads, we maun draw.

15 Up bespak the niest forester,
The niest forester of a’:
An this be Johnie o Cockerslee,
To him we winna draw.

16 The first shot that they did shoot,
They woundit him on the bree;
Up bespak the uncle’s son,
‘The niest will gar him die.’

17 The second shot that eer they shot,
It scaithd him near the heart;
‘I only wauken,’ Johnie cried,
‘Whan first I find the smart.

18 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,
Stand stout, and dinna flee;
Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds,
And we will gar them die.’

19 He has killed six o the proud foresters,
And wounded the seventh sair:
He laid his leg out owre his steed,
Says, I will kill na mair.

20 ‘Oh wae befa thee, silly auld man,
An ill death may thee dee!
Upon thy head be a’ this blude,
For mine, I ween, is free.’

Version E

1 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
Calld for water to wash his hands,
And he has calld for his gud gray hunds,
That lay bund in iron bands. bands
That lay bund in iron bands

2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs,
Ye’ll busk and mak them boun,
For I’m gaing to the Broadspear hill,
To ding the dun deer doun.’

3 Whan Johnie’s mither heard o this,
She til her son has gane:
‘Ye’ll win your mither’s benison,
Gin ye wad stay at hame.

4 ‘Your meat sall be o the very, very best,
And your drink o the finest wine;
And ye will win your mither’s benison,
Gin ye wad stay at hame.’

5 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak,
Nor wad he stay at hame;
But he’s on to the Broadspear hill,
To ding the dun deer doun.

6 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
And a little below the sun,
And there he spied the dun deer lying sleeping,
Aneath a buss o brume.

7 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he has woundit him in the side,
And atween the water and the wud
He laid the dun deer’s pride.

8 They ate sae meikle o the venison,
And drank sae meikle o the blude,
That Johnie and his twa gray hunds
Fell asleep in yonder wud.

9 By ther cam a silly auld man,
A silly auld man was he,
And he’s aff to the proud foresters,
To tell what he did see.

10 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man,
What news? come tell to me:’
‘Na news, na news,’ said the silly auld man,
‘But what mine een did see.

11 ‘As I cam in by yon greenwud,
And doun amang the scrogs,
The bonniest youth that ere I saw
Lay sleeping atween twa dogs.

12 ‘The sark that he had on his back
Was o the holland sma,
And the coat that he had on his back
Was laced wi gowd fu braw.’

13 Up bespak the first forester,
The first forester ava:
‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir,
It’s time we war awa.’

14 Up bespak the niest forester,
The niest forester ava:
‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir,
To him we winna draw.’

15 The first shot that they did shoot,
They woundit him on the thie;
Up bespak the uncle’s son,
The niest will gar him die.

16 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,
Stand stout, and dinna flee;
Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds,
And we will mak them dee.’

17 He has killed six o the proud foresters,
And he has woundit the seventh sair;
He laid his leg out oure his steed,
Says, I will kill na mair.

Version F

1 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
Called for water to wash his hands:
‘Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs,
That are bound wi iron bands.’

2 When Johnie’s mother gat word o that,
Her hands for dule she wrang:
‘O Johnie, for my bennison,
To the grenewood dinna gang!

3 ‘Eneugh ye hae o the gude wheat-bread,
And eneugh o the blude-red wine,
And therefore for nae vennison, Johnie,
I pray ye, stir frae hame.’

4 But Johnie’s buskt up his gude bend bow,
His arrows, ane by ane,
And he has gane to Durrisdeer,
To hunt the dun deer down.

5 As he came down by Merriemass,
And in by the benty line,
There has he espied a deer lying,
Aneath a bush of ling.

6 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he wounded her on the side,
But atween the water and the brae,
His hounds they laid her pride.

7 And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel
That he’s had out her liver and lungs,
And wi these he has feasted his bludey hounds
As if they had been erl’s sons.

8 They eat sae much o the vennison,
And drank sae much o the blude,
That Johnie and his bludey hounds
Fell asleep as they had been dead.

9 And by there came a silly auld carle,
An ill death mote he die!
For he’s awa to Hislinton,
Where the Seven Foresters did lie.

10 ‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle?
What news bring ye to me?’
‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle,
‘Save what these eyes did see.

11 ‘As I came down by Merriemass,
And down amang the scroggs,
The bonniest childe that ever I saw
Lay sleeping amang his dogs.

12 ‘The shirt that was upon his back
Was o the holland fine;
The doublet which was over that
Was o the Lincome twine.

13 ‘The buttons that were on his sleeve
Were o the gowd sae gude;
The gude graie hounds he lay amang,
Their mouths were dyed wi blude.’

14 Then out and spak the first forester,
The heid man ower them a’:
If this be Johnie o Breadislee,
Nae nearer will we draw.

15 But up and spak the sixth forester,
His sister’s son was he:
If this be Johnie o Breadislee,
We soon shall gar him die.

16 The first flight of arrows the foresters shot,
They wounded him on the knee;
And out and spak the seventh forester,
The next will gar him die.

17 Johnie’s set his back against an aik,
His fute against a stane,
And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
He has slain them a’ but ane.

18 He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side,
But and his collar bane;
He’s laod him twa-fald ower his steed,
Bade him carry the tidings hame.

19 ‘O is there na a bonnie bird
Can sing as I can say,
Could flee away to my mother’s bower,
And tell to fetch Johnie away?’

20 The starling flew to his mother’s window-stane,
It whistled and it sang,
And aye the ower-word o the tune
Was, Johnie tarries lang!

21 They made a rod o the hazel-bush,
Another o the slae-thorn tree,
And mony, mony were the men
At fetching our Johnie.

22 Then out and spake his auld mother,
And fast her teirs did fa;
Ye wad nae be warnd, my son Johnie,
Frae the hunting to bide awa.

23 ‘Aft hae I brought to Breadislee
The less gear and the mair,
But I neer brought to Breadislee
What grieved my heart sae sair.

24 ‘But wae betyde that silly auld carle,
An ill death shall he die;
For the highest tree on Merriemass
Shall be his morning’s fee.’

25 Now Johnie’s gude bend bow is broke,
And his gude graie dogs are slain,
And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer,
And his hunting it is done.

Version G

1 JOHNNIE BRAD, on a May mornin,
Called for water to wash his hands,
An there he spied his twa blude-hounds,
Waur bound in iron bands. bands
Waur bound in iron bands

2 Johnnie’s taen his gude bent bow,
Bot an his arrows kene,
An strippit himsel o the scarlet red,
An put on the licht Lincoln green.

3 Up it spak Johnnie’s mither,
An’ a wae, wae woman was she:
I beg you bide at hame, Johnnie,
I pray be ruled by me.

4 Baken bread ye sall nae lack,
An wine you sall lack nane;
Oh Johnnie, for my benison,
I beg you bide at hame!

5 He has made a solemn aith,
Atween the sun and the mune,
That he wald gae to the gude green wood,
The dun deer to ding doon.

6 He luiket east, he luiket wast,
An in below the sun,
An there he spied the dun deer,
Aneath a bush o brume.

7 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot,
He wounded her in the side;
The nexten shot that Johnnie shot,
I wat he laid her pride.

8 He’s eaten o the venison,
An drunken o the blude,
Until he fell as sound asleep
As though he had been dead.

9 Bye there cam a silly auld man,
And a silly auld man was he,
An he’s on to the Seven Foresters,
As fast as he can flee.

10 ‘As I cam in by yonder haugh,
An in among the scroggs,
The bonniest boy that ere I saw
Lay sleepin atween his dogs.’

11 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot,
He shot them a’ but ane,
An he flang him owre a milk-white steed,
Bade him bear tidings hame.

Version H

1 JOHNNIE raise up in a May morning,
Calld for water to wash his hands,
And he’s commant his bluidy dogs
To be loosd frae their iron bands. bands
To be loosd frae their iron bands

2 ‘Win up, win up, my bluidy dogs,
Win up, and be unbound,
And we will on to Bride’s Braidmuir,
And ding the dun deer down.’

3 When his mother got word o that,
Then she took bed and lay;
Says, Johnnie, my son, for my blessing,
Ye’ll stay at hame this day.

4 There’s baken bread and brown ale
Shall be at your command;
Ye’ll win your mither’s blythe blessing,
To the Bride’s Braidmuir nae gang.

5 Mony are my friends, mither,
Though thousands were my foe;
Betide me life, betide me death,
To the Bride’s Braidmuir I’ll go.

6 The sark that was on Johnnie’s back
Was o the cambric fine;
The belt that was around his middle
Wi pearlins it did shine.

7 The coat that was upon his back
Was o the linsey brown;
And he’s awa to the Bride’s Braidmuir,
To ding the dun deer down.

8 Johnnie lookd east, Johnnie lookd west,
And turnd him round and round,
And there he saw the king’s dun deer,
Was cowing the bush o brune.

9 Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
He wounded her in the side;
Between him and yon burnie-bank,
Johnnie he laid her pride.

10 He ate sae muckle o the venison,
He drank sae muckle bleed,
Till he lay down between his hounds,
And slept as he’d been dead.

11 But by there came a stane-auld man,
An ill death mat he dee!
For he is on to the Seven Foresters,
As fast as gang could he.

12 ‘What news, what news, ye stane-auld man?
What news hae ye brought you wi?’
‘Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters,
But what your eyes will see.

13 ‘As I gaed i yon rough thick hedge,
Amang yon bramly scroggs,
The fairest youth that eer I saw
Lay sleeping between his dogs.

14 ‘The sark that was upon his back
Was o the cambric fine;
The belt that was around his middle
Wi pearlins it did shine.’

15 Then out it speaks the first forester:
Whether this be true or no,
O if it’s Johnnie o Cocklesmuir,
Nae forder need we go.

16 Out it spake the second forester,
A fierce fellow was he:
Betide me life, betide me death,
This youth we’ll go and see.

17 As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge,
And down yon forest gay,
They came to that very same place
Where John o Cockis he lay.

18 The first an shot they shot at him,
They wounded him in the thigh;
Out spake the first forester’s son:
By the next shot he maun die.

19 ‘O stand ye true, my trusty bow,
And stout steel never fail!
Avenge me now on all my foes,
Who have my life i bail.’

20 Then Johnnie killd six foresters,
And wounded the seventh sair;
Then drew a stroke at the stane-auld man,
That words he neer spake mair.

21 His mother’s parrot in window sat,
She whistled and she sang,
And aye the owerturn o the note,
‘Young Johnnie’s biding lang.’

22 When this reached the king’s own ears,
It grievd him wondrous sair;
Says, I’d rather they’d hurt my subjects all
Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir.

23 ‘But where are all my wall-wight men,
That I pay meat and fee,
Will gang the morn to Johnnie’s castle,
See how the cause may be.’

24 Then he’s calld Johnnie up to court,
Treated him handsomelie,
And now to hunt in the Bride’s Braidmuir,
For life has license free.

Version I

1 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
Called for water to wash his hands, hands
And he is awa to Braidisbanks,
To ding the dun deer down. down
To ding the dun deer down

2 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
And it’s lang before the sun,
And there he did spy the dun deer lie,
Beneath a bush of brume.

3 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he’s woundit her in the side;
Out then spake his sister’s son,
‘And the neist will lay her pride.’

4 They’ve eaten sae meikle o the gude venison,
And they’ve drunken sae muckle o the blude,
That they’ve fallen into as sound a sleep
As gif that they were dead.

5 ‘It’s doun, and it’s doun, and it’s doun, doun,
And it’s doun amang the scrogs,
And there ye’ll espy twa bonnie boys lie,
Asleep amang their dogs.’

6 They waukened Johnie out o his sleep,
And he’s drawn to him his coat:
‘My fingers five, save me alive,
And a stout heart fail me not!’

Version J

1 HIS coat was o the scarlet red,
His vest was o the same;
His stockings were o the worset lace,
And buckles tied to the same.

2 Out then spoke one, out then spoke two,
Out then spoke two or three;
Out spoke the master forester,
‘It’s Johnie o Braidislee.

3 ‘If this be true, thou silly auld man,
Which you tell unto me,
Five hundred pounds of yearly rent
It shall not pay your fee.’

4 ‘O wae be to you seven foresters!
I wonder ye dinna think shame,
You being seven sturdy men,
And I but a man my lane.

5 ‘Now fail me not, my ten fingers,
That are both long and small!
Now fail me not, my noble heart!
For in thee I trust for all.

6 ‘Now fail me not, my good bend bow,
That was in London coft!
Now fail me not, my golden string,
Which my true lover wrocht!’

7 He has tossed him up, he has tossed him doun,
He has broken his collar-bone;
He has tied him to his bridle reins,
Bade him carry the tidings home.

Version K

1 ‘THERE ’s no a bird in a’ this foreste
Will do as meikle for me
As dip its wing in the wan water
An straik it on my ee-bree.’

Version L

1 BUT aye at ilka ae mile’s end
She fand a cat o clay,
An written upon the back o it
‘Tak your son Johnnie Brod away.’

Version M

1 ‘O busk ye, O busk ye, my three bluidy hounds,
O busk ye, and go with me,
For there’s seven foresters in yon forest,
And them I want to see.’ see
And them I want to see

115. Robyn and Gandeleyn

1 I HERDE a carpyng of a clerk,
Al at y+oone wodes ende,
Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn;
Was ther non other thynge.
Robynn lyth in grene wode bowndyn

2 Stronge theuys wern tho chylderin non,
But bowmen gode and hende;
He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych,
If God wold it hem sende.

3 Al day wentyn tho chylderin too,
And fleych fowndyn he non,
Til it were a-geyn euyn;
THe chylderin wold gon hom.

4 Half an honderid of fat falyf der
He comyn a-y+oon,
And alle he wern fayr and fat i-now,
But markyd was ther non:
‘Be dere God,’ seyde gode Robyn,
‘Here of we xul haue on.’

5 Robyn bent his joly bowe,
RRther in he set a flo;
THe fattest der of alle
THe herte he clef a to.

6 He hadde not the der i-flawe,
Ne half out of the hyde,
There cam a schrewde arwe out of the west,
RRthat felde Robertes pryde.

7 Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west,
Be euery syde:
‘Hoo hat myn mayster slayin?
Ho hat don this dede?
Xal I neuer out of grene wode go
Til I se [his] sydis blede.’

8 Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west,
And sowt vnder the sunne;
He saw a lytil boy
He clepyn Wrennok of Donne.

9 A good bowe in his hond,
A brod arwe ther ine,
And fowre and twenti goode arwys,
Trusyd in a thrumme:
‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,
Her-of thu xalt han summe.

10 ‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,
Her of thu gyst plente:’
‘Euer on for an other,’ seyde Gandeleyn;
‘Mysaunter haue he xal fle.

11 ‘Qwer-at xal our marke be?’
Seyde Gandeleyn:
‘Eueryche at otheris herte,’
Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

12 Ho xal y+oeue the ferste schote?’
Seyde Gandeleyn:
‘And I xul y+oeue the on be-forn,’
Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

13 Wrennok schette a ful good schote,
And he schet not to hye;
THrow the sanchothis of his bryk;
It towchyd neyther thye.

14 ‘Now hast thu y+oouyn me on be-forn,’
Al thus to Wrennok seyde he,
‘And throw the myy+ot of our lady
A bettere I xal y+oeue the.’

15 Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe,
And set ther in a flo;
He schet throw his grene certyl,
His herte he clef on too.

16 ‘Now xalt thu neuer y+oelpe, Wrennok,
At ale ne at wyn,
RRthat thu hast slawe goode Robyn,
And his knaue Gandeleyn.

17 ‘Now xalt thu neuer y+oelpe, Wrennok,
At wyn ne at ale,
RRthat thu hast slawe goode Robyn,
And Gandeleyn his knaue.’
Robyn lyy+oth in grene wode bowndyn

116. Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough and William of Cloudesly

1 MERY it was in grene forest,
Amonge the leues grene,
Where that men walke both east and west,
Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,

2 To ryse the dere out of theyr denne;
Suche sightes as hath ofte bene sene,
As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey,
By them it is as I meane.

3 The one of them hight Adam Bel,
The other Clym of the Clough,
The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,
An archer good ynough.

4 They were outlawed for venyson,
These thre yemen euerechone;
They swore them brethen vpon a day,
To Englysshe-wood for to gone.

5 Now lith and lysten, gentylmen,
And that of myrthes loueth to here:
Two of them were single men,
The third had a wedded fere.

6 Wyllyam was the wedded man,
Muche more then was hys care:
He sayde to hys brethen vpon a day,
To carelel he would fare,

7 For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife,
And with hys chyldren thre:
‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel,
‘Not by the counsell of me.

8 ‘For if ye go to Caerlel, brother,
And from thys wylde wode wende,
If the justice mai you take,
Your lyfe were at an ende.’

9 ‘If that I come not to morowe, brother,
By pryme to you agayne,
Truste not els but that I am take,
Or else that I am slayne.’

10 He toke hys leaue of hys brethen two,
And to Carlel he is gone;
There he knocked at hys owne wyndowe,
Shortlye and anone.

11 ‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe,
And my chyldren three?
Lyghtly let in thyne husbande,
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

12 ‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce,
And syghed wonderous sore,
‘Thys place hath ben besette for you
Thys halfe yere and more.’

13 ‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesle,
‘I woulde that I in were;
Now feche vs meate and drynke ynoughe,
And let vs make good chere.’

14 She feched him meat and drynke plenty,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe,
And pleased hym with that she had,
Whome she loued as her lyfe.

15 There lay an old wyfe in that place,
A lytle besyde the fyre,
Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye,
More then seuen yere.

16 Up she rose, and walked full styll,
Euel mote she spede therefoore!
For she had not set no fote on ground
In seuen yere before.

17 She went vnto the justice hall,
As fast as she could hye:
‘Thys nyght is come vn to thys town
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

18 Thereof the iustice was full fayne,
And so was the shirife also:
‘Thou shalt not trauaile hether, dame, for nought;
Thy meed thou shalt haue or thou go.’

19 They gaue to her a ryght good goune,
Of scarlat it was, as I heard say[n]e;
She toke the gyft, and home she wente,
And couched her doune agayne.

20 They rysed the towne of mery Carlel,
In all the hast that they can,
And came thronging to Wyllyames house,
As fast [as] they might gone.

21 Theyr they besette that good yeman,
Round about on euery syde;
Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,
That heytherward they hyed.

22 Alyce opened a shot-wyndow,
And loked all about;
She was ware of the justice and the shrife bothe,
Wyth a full great route.

23 ‘Alas! treason,’ cryed Alyce,
‘Euer wo may thou be!
Go into my chambre, my husband,’ she sayd,
‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

24 He toke hys sweard and hys bucler,
Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre,
And wente into hys strongest chamber,
Where he thought surest to be.

25 Fayre Alice folowed him as a louer true,
With a pollaxe in her hande:
‘He shalbe deade that here cometh in
Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’

26 Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe,
That was of trusty tre,
He smot the justise on the brest,
That hys arrowe brest in thre.

27 ‘God’s curse on his hartt,’ saide William,
‘Thys day thy cote dyd on;
If it had ben no better then myne,
It had gone nere thy bone.’

28 ‘Yelde the, Cloudesle,’ sayd the justise,
‘And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro:’
‘Gods curse on hys hart,’ sayde fair Al[i]ce,
‘That my husband councelleth so.’

29 ‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the sherife,
‘Syth it wyll no better be,
And brenne we therin William,’ he saide,
‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’

30 They fyred the house in many a place,
The fyre flew vpon hye;
‘Alas!’ than cryed fayr Alice,
‘I se we shall here dy.’

31 William openyd hys backe wyndow,
That was in hys chambre on hye,
And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe,
And hys chyldren thre.

32 ‘Haue here my treasure,’ sayde William,
‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre;
For Christes loue do them no harme,
But wreke you all on me.’

33 Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,
Tyll hys arrowes were all go,
And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell,
That hys bo[w]stryng brent in two.

34 The spercles brent and fell hym on,
Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle;
But than was he a wofull man, and sayde,
Thys is a cowardes death to me.

35 ‘Leuer I had,’ sayde Wyllyam,
‘With my sworde in the route to renne,
Then here among myne ennemyes wode
Thus cruelly to bren.’

36 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler,
And among them all he ran;
Where the people were most in prece,
He smot downe many a man.

37 There myght no man stand hys stroke,
So fersly on them he ran;
Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him,
And so toke that good yeman.

38 There they hym bounde both hand and fote,
And in depe dongeon hym cast;
‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayde the hye justice,
‘Thou shalt be hanged in hast.’

39 ‘One vow shal I make,’ sayde the sherife,
‘A payre of new galowes shall I for the make,
And al the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte,
There shall no man come in therat.

40 ‘Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe,
Nor yet Adam Bell,
Though they came with a thousand mo,
Nor all the deuels in hell.’

41 Early in the mornyng the justice vprose,
To the gates fast gan he gon,
And commaunded to be shut full cloce
Lightile euerychone.

42 Then went he to the market-place,
As fast as he coulde hye;
A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set,
Besyde the pyllory.

43 A lytle boy stod them amonge,
And asked what meaned that gallow-tre;
They sayde, To hange a good yeaman,
Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.

44 That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,
And kept fayre Alyce swyne;
Full oft he had sene Cloudesle in the wodde,
And geuen hym there to dyne.

45 He went out of a creues in the wall,
And lightly to the woode dyd gone;
There met he with these wyght yonge men,
Shortly and anone.

46 ‘Alas!’ then sayde that lytle boye,
‘Ye tary here all to longe;
Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death,
All readye for to honge.’

47 ‘Alas!’ then sayde good Adam Bell,
‘That euer we see thys daye!
He myght her with vs haue dwelled,
So ofte as we dyd him praye.

48 ‘He myght haue taryed in grene foreste,
Under the shadowes sheene,
And haue kepte both hym and vs in reaste,
Out of trouble and teene.’

49 Adam bent a ryght good bow,
A great hart sone had he slayne;
‘Take that, chylde,’ he sayde, ’To thy dynner,
And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’

50 ‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yong men,
‘Tary we no longer here;
We shall hym borowe, by Gods grace,
Though we bye it full dere.’

51 To Caerlel went these good yemen,
In a mery mornyng of Maye:
Her is a fyt of Cloudesli,
And another is for to saye.

52 And when they came to mery Caerlell,
In a fayre mornyng-tyde,
They founde the gates shut them vntyll,
Round about on euery syde.

53 ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Adam Bell,
‘That euer we were made men!
These gates be shyt so wonderly well,
That we may not come here in.’

54 Than spake Clymme of the Cloughe:
With a wyle we wyll vs in brynge;
Let vs say we be messengers,
Streyght comen from oure kynge.

55 Adam sayd, I haue a lettre wryten wele,
Now let vs wysely werke;
We wyll say we haue the kynges seale,
I holde the porter no clerke.

56 Than Adam Bell bete on the gate,
With str’okes greate and stronge;
The porter herde suche a noyse therate,
And to the gate faste he thronge.

57 ‘Who is there nowe,’ sayd the porter,
‘That maketh all this knockynge?
‘We be two messengers,’ sayd Clymme of the Clo[ughe],
‘Be comen streyght frome oure kynge.’

58 ‘We haue a lettre,’ sayd Adam Bell,
‘To the justyce we must it brynge;
Let vs in, oure message to do,
That we were agayne to our kynge.’

59 ‘Here cometh no man in,’ sayd the porter,
‘By hym that dyed on a tre,
Tyll a false thefe be hanged,
Called Wyllyam of Clowdysle.’

60 Than spake that good [yeman Clym of the Cloughe,
And swore by Mary fre,
If that we stande long wythout,
Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.]

61 [Lo here] we haue got the kynges seale;
[What! l]ordane, arte thou wode?
[The p]orter had wende it had been so,
[And l]yghtly dyd of his hode.

62 ‘[Welco]me be my lordes seale,’ sayd he,
‘[For] that shall ye come in:’
[He] opened the gate ryght shortly,
[An] euyll openynge for hym!

63 ‘[N]owe we are in,’ sayd Adam Bell,
‘[T]herof we are full fayne;
[But] Cryst knoweth that herowed hell,
[H]ow we shall come oute agayne.’

64 ‘[Had] we the keys,’ sayd Clym of the Clowgh,
‘Ryght well than sholde we spede;
[Than] myght we come out well ynough,
[Whan] we se tyme and nede.’

65 [They] called the porter to a councell,
[And] wronge hys necke in two,
[And] kest hym in a depe dongeon,
[And] toke the keys hym fro.

66 ‘[N]ow am I porter,’ sayd Adam Bell;
‘[Se], broder, the keys haue we here;
[The] worste porter to mery Carlell,
[That ye] had this hondreth yere.

67 ow] wyll we oure bow s bende,
[Into the t]owne wyll we go,
[For to delyuer our dere] broder,
[Where he lyeth in care and wo.’

68 Then they bent theyr good yew bowes,
And loked theyr stringes were round;]
The market-place of mery Carlyll,
They beset in that stounde.

69 And as they loked them besyde,
A payre of newe galowes there they se,
And the iustyce, with a quest of swerers,
That had iuged Clowdysle there hanged to be.

70 And Clowdysle hymselfe lay redy in a carte,
Fast bounde bothe fote and hande,
And a strong rope aboute his necke,
All redy for to be hangde.

71 The iustyce called to hym a ladde;
Clowdysles clothes sholde he haue,
To take the mesure of that good yoman,
And therafter to make his graue.

72 ‘I haue sene as greate a merueyll,’ sayd Clowd[esle],
‘As bytwene this and pryme,
He that maketh thys graue for me,
Hymselfe may lye therin.’

73 ‘Thou spekest proudely,’ sayd the iustyce;
‘I shall hange the with my hande:’
Full well that herde his bretheren two,
There styll as they dyd stande.

74 Than Clowdysle cast hys eyen asyde,
And sawe hys bretheren stande,
At a corner of the market-place,
With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand,
Redy the iustyce for to chase.

75 ‘I se good comforte,’ sayd Clowdysle,
‘Yet hope I well to fare;
If I myght haue my handes at wyll,
[Ryght l]ytell wolde I care.’

76 [Than b]espake good Adam Bell,
[To Clym]me of the Clowgh so fre;
[Broder], se ye marke the iustyce well;
[Lo yon]der ye may him se.

77 [And at] the sheryf shote I wyll,
[Stron]gly with an arowe kene;
[A better] shotte in mery Carlyll,
[Thys se]uen yere was not sene.

78 [They lo]used theyr arowes bothe at ones,
[Of no] man had they drede;
[The one] hyt the iustyce, the other the sheryf,
[That b]othe theyr sydes gan blede.

79 [All men] voyded, that them stode nye,
[Whan] the iustyce fell to the grounde,
[And the] sheryf fell nyghe hym by;
[Eyther] had his deth s wounde.

80 [All the c]ytezeyns fast gan fle,
[They du]rste no lenger abyde;
[There ly]ghtly they loused Clowdysle,
[Where he] with ropes lay tyde.

81 [Wyllyam] sterte to an offycer of the towne,
[Hys axe] out his hande he wronge;
[On eche] syde he smote them downe,
[Hym tho]ught he had taryed to longe.

82 [Wyllyam] sayd to his bretheren two,
[Thys daye] let vs togyder lyue and deye;
[If euer you] haue nede as I haue nowe,
[The same] shall ye fynde by me.

83 [They] shyt so well in that tyde,
For theyr strynges were of sylke full sure,
That they kepte the stretes on euery syde;
That batayll dyd longe endure.

84 They fought togyder as bretheren true,
Lyke hardy men and bolde;
Many a man to the grounde they threwe,
And made many an hert colde.

85 But whan theyr arowes were all gone,
Men presyd on them full fast;
They drewe theyr swerd s than anone,
And theyr bow s from them caste.

86 They wente lyghtly on theyr waye,
With swerdes and buckelers rounde;
By that it was the myddes of the daye,
They had made many a wounde.

87 There was many a noute-horne in Carlyll blowen,
And the belles backwarde dyd they rynge;
Many a woman sayd alas,
And many theyr handes dyd wrynge.

88 The mayre of Carlyll forth come was,
And with hym a full grete route;
These thre yomen dredde hym full sore,
For theyr lyu s stode in doubte.

89 The mayre came armed, a full greate pace,
With a polaxe in his hande;
Many a stronge man with hym was,
There in that stoure to stande.

90 The mayre smote at Clowdysle with his byll,
His buckeler he brast in two;
Full many a yoman with grete yll,
‘[Al]as, treason!’ they cryed for wo.
‘[Ke]pe we the gates fast,’ they bad,
‘[T]hat these traytours theroute not go.’

91 But all for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they downe were layde
Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought,
Were goten without at a brayde.

92 ‘Haue here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell,
‘Myne offyce I here forsake;
Yf ye do by my councell,
A new porter ye make.’

93 He threwe the keys there at theyr hedes,
And bad them evyll to thryue,
And all that letteth ony good yoman
To come and comforte his wyue.

94 Thus be these good yomen gone to the wode,
As lyght as lefe on lynde;
They laughe and be mery in theyr mode,
Theyr enemyes were farre behynde.

95 Whan they came to Inglyswode,
Under theyr trysty-tre,
There they founde bow s full gode,
And arow s greate plent .

96 ‘So helpe me God,’ sayd Adam Bell,
And Clymme of the Clowgh so fre,
‘I wolde we were nowe in mery Carlell,
[Be]fore that fayre meyn .’

97 They set them downe and made good chere,
And eate an[d dr]anke full well:
Here is a fytte [of] these wyght yongemen,
And another I shall you tell.

98 As they sat in Inglyswode,
Under theyr trysty-tre,
Them thought they herde a woman [wepe],
But her they myght not se.

99 Sore syghed there fayre Alyce, and sayd,
Alas that euer I se this daye!
For now is my dere husbonde slayne,
Alas and welawaye!

100 Myght I haue spoken wyth hys dere breth[eren],
With eyther of them twayne,
[To shew to them what him befell]
My herte were out of payne.

101 Clowdysle walked a lytell besyde,
And loked vnder the grene wodde lynde;
He was ware of his wyfe and his chyldre[n thre],
Full wo in herte and mynde.

102 ‘Welcome, wyfe,’ than sayd Wyllyam,
‘Unto this trysty-tre;
I had wende yesterdaye, by swete Sai[nt John],
Thou sholde me neuer haue se.’

103 ‘Now wele is me,’ she sayd, ’That [ye be here],
My herte is out of wo:’
‘Dame,’ he sayd, ’Be mery and glad,
And thanke my bretheren two.’

104 ‘Here of to speke,’ sayd Ad[am] Bell,
‘I-wys it [is no bote];
The me[at that we must supp withall,
It runneth yet fast on fote.’

105 Then went they down into a launde,
These noble archares all thre,
Eche of the]m slewe a harte of grece,
[The best t[hey coude there se.

106 ‘[Haue here the] best, Alyce my wyfe,’
[Sayde Wyllya]m of Clowdysle,
‘[By cause ye so] boldely stode me by,
[Whan I w]as slayne full nye.’

107 [Than they] wente to theyr souper,
[Wyth suc]he mete as they had,
[And than]ked God of theyr fortune;
[They we]re bothe mery and glad.

108 [And whan] they had souped well,
[Certayne] withouten leace,
[Clowdysle] sayde, We wyll to oure kynge,
[To get v]s a chartre of peace.

109 [Alyce shal] be a soiournynge,
[In a nunry] here besyde;
[My tow sonn]es shall with her go,
[And ther the]y shall abyde.

110 [Myne eldest so]ne shall go with me,
[For hym haue I] no care,
[And he shall breng] you worde agayne
[How that we do fare.

111 Thus be these wig]ht men to London gone,
[As fast as they ma]ye hye,
[Tyll they came to the kynges] palays,
There they woulde ned s be.

112 And whan they came to the kyng s courte,
Unto the pallace gate,
Of no man wold they aske leue,
But boldly went in therat.

113 They preced prestly into the hall,
Of no man had they dreade;
The porter came after and dyd them call,
And with them began to [chyde.]

114 The vssher sayd, Yemen, what wolde ye haue?
I praye you tell me;
Ye myght thus make offycers shent:
Good syrs, of whens be ye?

115 ‘Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,
Certayne withouten leace,
And hyther we be come to our kynge,
To get vs a charter of peace.’

116 And whan they came before our kynge,
As it was the lawe of the lande,
They kneled downe without lettynge,
And eche helde vp his hande.

117 They sayd, Lorde, we beseche you here,
That ye wyll graunte vs grace,
For we haue slayne your fatte falowe dere,
In many a sondry place.

118 ‘What is your names?’ than sayd our kynge,
‘Anone that you tell me:’
They sayd, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,
And Wylliam of Clowdesle.

119 ‘Be ye those theues,’ than sayd our kynge,
‘That men haue told of to me?
Here to God I make a vowe,
Ye shall be hanged all thre.

120 ‘Ye shall be dead without mercy,
As I am kynge of this lande:’
He commanded his officers euerichone
Fast on them to lay hand.

121 There they toke these good yemen,
And arested them all thre:
‘So may I thryue,’ sayd Adam Bell,
‘Thys game lyketh not me.

122 ‘But, good lorde, we beseche you nowe,
That ye wyll graunte vs grace,
In so moche as we be to you commen;
Or elles that we may fro you passe,

123 ‘With suche weapons as we haue here,
Tyll we be out of your place;
And yf we lyue this hondred yere,
We wyll aske you no grace.’

124 ‘Ye speke proudly,’ sayd the kynge,
‘Ye shall be hanged all thre:’
‘That were great pity,’ sayd the quene,
‘If any grace myght be.

125 ‘My lorde, whan I came fyrst in to this lande,
To be your wedded wyfe,
The fyrst bone that I wolde aske,
Ye wolde graunte me belyfe.

126 ‘And I asked you neuer none tyll nowe,
Therfore, good lorde, graunte it me:’
‘Nowe aske it, madame,’ sayd the kynge,
‘And graunted shall it be.’

127 ‘Than, good lorde, I you beseche,
The yemen graunte you me:’
‘Madame, ye myght haue asked a bone
That sholde haue ben worthe them thre.

128 ‘Ye myght haue asked towres and towne[s],
Parkes and forestes plentie:’
‘None so pleasaunt to mi pay,’ she said,
‘Nor none so lefe to me.’

129 ‘Madame, sith it is your desyre,
Your asking graunted shalbe;
But I had leuer haue geuen you
Good market-town s thre.’

130 The quene was a glad woman,
And sayd, Lord, gramarcy;
I dare vndertake for them
That true men shall they be.

131 But, good lord, speke som mery word,
That comfort they may se:
‘I graunt you grace,’ then said our king,
‘Wasshe, folos, and to meate go ye.’

132 They had not setten but a whyle,
Certayne without lesynge,
There came messengers out of the north,
With letters to our kyng.

133 And whan the came before the kynge,
The kneled downe vpon theyr kne,
And sayd, Lord, your offycers grete you wel,
Of Caerlel in the north cuntre.

134 ‘How fare[th] my justice,’ sayd the kyng,
‘And my sherife also?’
‘Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,
And many an officer mo.’

135 ‘Who hath them slayne?’ sayd the kyng,
‘Anone thou tell me:’
‘Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough,
And wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

136 ‘Alas for rewth!’ then sayd our kynge,
‘My hart is wonderous sore;
I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde
I had knowne of thys before.

137 ‘For I haue y-graunted them grace,
And that forthynketh me;
But had I knowne all thys before,
They had ben hanged all thre.’

138 The kyng opened the letter anone,
Hym selfe he red it tho,
And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine
Thre hundred men and mo.

139 Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe,
And the mayre of Caerlel towne;
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alyue were left not one.

140 The baylyes and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law,
And forty fosters of the fe
These outlawes had y-slaw;

141 And broken his parks, and slaine his dere;
Ouer all they chose the best;
So perelous outlawes as they were
Walked not by easte nor west.

142 When the kynge this letter had red,
In hys harte he syghed sore;
‘Take vp the table,’ anone he bad,
‘For I may eate no more.’

143 The kyng called hys best archars,
To the buttes with hym to go;
‘I wyll se these felowes shote,’ he sayd,
‘That in the north haue wrought this wo.’

144 The kynges bowmen buske them blyue,
And the quenes archers also,
So dyd these thre wyght yemen,
Wyth them they thought to go.

145 There twyse or thryse they shote about,
For to assay theyr hande;
There was no shote these thre yemen shot
That any prycke might them stand.

146 Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle;
By God that for me dyed,
I hold hym neuer no good archar
That shuteth at buttes so wyde.

147 ‘Wherat?’ then sayd our kyng,
‘I pray thee tell me:’
‘At suche a but, syr,’ he sayd,
‘As men vse in my countree.’

148 Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,
And his to brothren with him;
There they set vp to hasell roddes,
Twenty score paces betwene.

149 ‘I hold him an archar,’ said Cloudesle,
‘That yonder wande cleueth in two:’
‘Here is none suche,’ sayd the kyng,
‘Nor none that can so do.’

150 ‘I shall assaye, syr,’ sayd Cloudesle,
‘Or that I farther go:’
Cloudesle, with a bearyng arow,
Claue the wand in to.

151 ‘Thou art the best archer,’ then said the king,
‘Forsothe that euer I se:’
‘And yet for your loue,’ sayd Wylliam,
‘I wyll do more maystry.

152 ‘I haue a sonne is seuen yere olde;
He is to me full deare;
I wyll hym tye to a stake,
All shall se that be here;

153 ‘And lay an apple vpon hys head,
And go syxe score paces hym fro,
And I my selfe, with a brode arow,
Shall cleue the apple in two.’

154 ‘Now hast the,’ then sayd the kyng;
‘By him that dyed on a tre,
But yf thou do not as thou hest sayde,
Hanged shalt thou be.

155 ‘And thou touche his head or gowne,
In syght that men may se,
By all the sayntes that be in heaven,
I shall hange you all thre.’

156 ‘That I haue promised,’ said William,
‘I wyl it neuer forsake;’
And there euen before the kynge,
In the earth he droue a stake;

157 And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bade hym stande styll therat,
And turned the childes face fro him,
Because he shuld not sterte.

158 An apple vpon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent;
Syxe score paces they were outmet,
And thether Cloudesle went.

159 There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe;
Hys bowe was great and longe;
He set that arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge.

160 He prayed the people that was there
That they would styll stande;
‘For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoueth a stedfast hand.’

161 Muche people prayed for Cloudesle,
That hys lyfe saued myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote,
There was many a wepynge eye.

162 Thus Clowdesle clefte the apple in two,
That many a man it se;
‘Ouer goddes forbode,’ sayd the kynge,
‘That thou sholdest shote at me!

163 ‘I gyue the .xviii. pens a daye,
And my bowe shalte thou bere,
And ouer all the north countree
I make the chefe rydere.’

164 ‘And I gyue the .xii. pens a day,’ sayd the que[ne],
‘By God and by my faye;
Come fetche thy payment whan thou wylt,
No man shall say the naye.

165 ‘Wyllyam, I make the gentylman
Of clothynge and of fee,
And thy two brethren yemen of my chambr[e],
For they are so semely to se.

166 ‘Your sone, for he is tendre of age,
Of my wine-seller shall he be,
And whan he commeth to mann s state,
Better auaunced shall he be.

167 ‘And, Wylliam, brynge me your wyfe,’ sayd th[e quene];
Me longeth sore here to se;
She shall be my chefe gentylwoman,
And gouerne my nursery.’

168 The yemen thanked them full courteysly,
And sayd, To Rome streyght wyll we wende,
[Of all the synnes that we haue done
To be assoyled of his hand.

169 So forth]e be gone these good yemen,
[As fast a]s they myght hye,
[And aft]er came and dwelled with the kynge,
[And dye]d good men all thre.

170 [Thus e]ndeth the lyues of these good yemen,
[God sen]de them eternall blysse,
[And all] that with hande-bowe shoteth,
[That of] heuen they may neuer mysse!

117. The Gest of Robyn Hode

1 LYTHE and listin, gentilmen,
That be of frebore blode;
I shall you tel of a gode yeman,
His name was Robyn Hode.

2 Robyn was a prude outlaw,
[Whyles he walked on grounde;
So curteyse an outlawe] as he was one
Was never non founde.

3 Robyn stode in Bernesdale,
And lenyd hym to a tre;
And bi hym stode Litell Johnn,
A gode yeman was he.

4 And alsoo dyd gode Scarlok,
And Much, the miller’s son;
There was none ynch of his bodi
But it was worth a grome.

5 Than bespake Lytell Johnn
All vntoo Robyn Hode:
Maister, and ye wolde dyne betyme
It wolde doo you moche gode.

6 Than bespake hym gode Robyn:
To dyne haue I noo lust,
Till that I haue som bolde baron,
Or som vnkouth gest.

7 . . . . . . .
That may pay for the best,
Or som knyght or [som] squyer,
That dwelleth here bi west.

8 A gode maner than had Robyn;
In londe where that he were,
Euery day or he wold dyne
Thre messis wolde he here.

9 The one in the worship of the Fader,
And another of the Holy Gost,
The thirde of Our der Lady,
That he loued allther moste.

10 Robyn loued Oure der Lady;
For dout of dydly synne,
Wolde he neuer do compani harme
That any woman was in.

11 ‘Maistar,’ than sayde Lytil Johnn,
‘And we our borde shal sprede,
Tell vs wheder that we shal go,
And what life that we shall lede.

12 ‘Where we shall take, where we shall leue,
Where we shall abide behynde;
Where we shall robbe, where we shal reue,
Where we shal bete and bynde.’

13 ‘Therof no force,’ than sayde Robyn;
‘We shall do well inowe;
But loke ye do no husbonde harme,
That tilleth with his ploughe.

14 ‘No more ye shall no gode yeman
That walketh by gren -wode shawe;
Ne no knyght ne no squyer
That wol be a gode felawe.

15 ‘These bisshoppes and these archebishoppes,
Ye shall them bete and bynde;
The hy sherif of Notyingham,
Hym holde ye in your mynde.’

16 ‘This worde shalbe holde,’ sayde Lytell Johnn,
‘And this lesson we shall lere;
It is fer dayes ; God sende vs a gest,
That we were at oure dynere!’

17 ‘Take thy gode bowe in thy honde,’ sayde Rob[yn];
‘Late Much wende with the;
And so shal Willyam Scarlo[k],
And no man abyde with me.

18 ‘And walke vp to the Saylis,
And so to Watlingr Stret[e],
And wayte after some vnkuth gest,
Vp chaunce ye may them mete.

19 ‘Be he erle, or ani baron,
Abbot, or ani knyght,
Bringhe hym to lodge to me;
His dyner shall be dight.’

20 They wente vp to the Saylis,
These yeman all thre;
They loked est, they loke[d] weest;
They myght no man see.

21 But as they loked in to Bernysdale,
Bi a dern strete,
Than came a knyght ridinghe;
Full sone they gan hym mete.

22 All dreri was his semblaunce,
And lytell was his pryde;
His one fote in the styrop stode,
That othere wauyd beside.

23 His hode hanged in his iyn two;
He rode in symple aray;
A soriar man than he was one
Rode neuer in somer day.

24 Litell Johnn was full curteyes,
And sette hym on his kne:
‘Welcom be ye, gentyll knyght,
Welcom ar ye to me.

25 ‘Welcom be thou to gren wode,
Hend knyght and fre;
My maister hath abiden you fastinge,
Syr, al these our s thre.’

26 ‘Who is thy maister?’ sayde the knyght;
Johnn sayde, Robyn Hode;
‘He is [a] gode yoman,’ sayde the knyght,
‘Of hym haue I herde moche gode.

27 ‘I graunte,’ he sayde, ’with you to wende,
My bretherne, all in fere;
My purpos was to haue dyned to day
At Blith or Dancastere.’

28 Furth than went this gentyl knight,
With a carefull chere;
The teris oute of his iyen ran,
And fell downe by his lere.

29 They brought hym to the lodg -dore;
Whan Robyn hym gan see,
Full curtesly dyd of his hode
And sette hym on his knee.

30 ‘Welcome, sir knight,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Welcome art thou to me;
I haue abyden you fastinge, sir,
All these ouris thre.’

31 Than answered the gentyll knight,
With word s fayre and fre;
God the saue, goode Robyn,
And all thy fayre meyn .

32 They wasshed togeder and wyped bothe,
And sette to theyr dynere;
Brede and wyne they had right ynoughe,
And noumbles of the dere.

33 Swannes and fessauntes they had full gode,
And foules of the ryuere;
There fayled none so litell a birde
That euer was bred on bryre.

34 ‘Do gladly, sir knight,’ sayde Robyn;
‘Gramarcy, sir,’ sayde he;
‘Suche a dinere had I nat
Of all these wekys thre.

35 ‘If I come ageyne, Robyn,
Here by thys contr ,
As gode a dyner I shall the make
As that thou haest made to me.’

36 ‘Gramarcy, knyght,’ sayde Robyn;
‘My dyner whan that I it haue,
I was neuer so gredy, bi dere worthy God,
My dyner for to craue.

37 ‘But pay or ye wende,’ sayde Robyn;
‘Me thynketh it is gode ryght;
It was neuer the maner, by dere worthi God,
A yoman to pay for a knyhht.’

38 ‘I haue nought in my coffers,’ saide the knyght,
‘That I may profer for shame:’
‘Litell Johnn, go loke,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Ne let nat for no blame.

39 ‘Tel me truth,’ than saide Robyn,
‘So God haue parte of the:’
‘I haue no more but ten shelynges,’ sayde the knyght,
‘So God haue parte of me.’

40 If thou hast no more,’ sayde Robyn,
‘I woll nat one peny;
And yf thou haue nede of any more,
More shall I lend the.

41 ‘Go nowe furth, Littell Johnn,
The truth tell thou me;
If there be no more but ten shelinges,
No peny that I se.’

42 Lyttell Johnn sprede downe hys mantell
Full fayre vpon the grounde,
And there he fonde in the knyght s cofer
But euen halfe [a] pounde.

43 Littell Johnn let it lye full styll,
And went to hys maysteer [full] lowe;
‘What tidyng s, Johnn?’ sayde Robyn;
‘Sir, the knyght is true inowe.’

44 ‘Fyll of the best wine,’ sayde Robyn,
‘The knyght shall begynne;
Moche wonder thinketh me
Thy clot[h]ynge is so thin[n]e.

45 ‘Tell me [one] worde,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And counsel shal it be;
I trowe thou warte made a knyght of force,
Or ellys of yemanry.

46 ‘Or ellys thou hast bene a sori husbande,
And lyued in stroke and stryfe;
An okerer, or ellis a lechoure,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Wyth wronge hast led thy lyfe.’

47 ‘I am none of those,’ sayde the knyght,
‘By God that mad me;
An hundred wynter here before
Myn auncetres knyghtes haue be.

48 ‘But oft it hath befal, Robyn,
A man hath be disgrate;
But God that sitteth in heuen aboue
May amende his state.

49 ‘Withyn this two yere, Robyne,’ he sayde,
‘My neghbours well it knowe,
Foure hundred pounde of gode money
Ful well than myght I spende.

50 ‘Nowe haue I no gode,’ saide the knyght,
‘God hath shaped such an ende,
But my chyldren and my wyfe,
Tyll God yt may amende.’

51 ‘In what maner,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Hast thou lorne thy rychesse?’
‘For my great foly,’ he sayde,
‘And for my kynd[ ]nesse.

52 ‘I hade a sone, forsoth, Robyn,
That shulde hau[e] ben myn ayre,
Whanne he was twenty wynter olde,
In felde wolde iust full fayre.

53 ‘He slewe a knyght of Lancaster,
And a squyer bolde;
For to saue hym in his ryght
My godes both sette and solde.

54 ‘My londes both sette to wedde, Robyn,
Vntyll a certayn day,
To a ryche abbot here besyde
Of Seynt Mari Abbey.’

55 ‘What is the som?’ sayde Robyn;
‘Trouth than tell thou me;’
‘Sir,’ he sayde, ’Foure hundred pounde;
The abbot told it to me.’

56 ‘Nowe and thou lese thy lond,’ sayde Robyn,
‘What woll fall of the?’
‘Hastely I wol me buske,’ sayd the knyght,
‘Ouer the salt see,

57 ‘And se w[h]ere Criste was quyke and dede,
On the mount of Caluer ;
Fare wel, frende, and haue gode day;
It may no better be.’

58 Teris fell out of hys iyen two;
He wolde haue gone hys way:
‘Farewel, frende, and haue gode day;
I ne haue no more to pay.’

59 ‘Where be thy frend s?’ sayde Robyn:
‘Syr, neuer one wol me knowe;
While I was ryche ynowe at home
Great boste than wolde they blowe.

60 ‘And nowe they renne away fro me,
As bestis on a rowe;
They take no more hede of me
Thanne they had me neuer sawe.’

61 For ruthe thanne wept Litell Johnn,
Scarlok and Muche in fere;
‘Fyl of the best wyne,’ sayde Robyn,
‘For here is a symple chere.

62 ‘Hast thou any frende,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Thy borowe that wold be?’
‘I haue none,’ than sayde the knyght,
‘But God that dyed on tree.’

63 ‘Do away thy iapis,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Thereof wol I right none;
Wenest thou I wolde haue God to borowe,
Peter, Poule, or Johnn?

64 ‘Nay, by hym that me made,
And shope both sonne and mone,
Fynde me a better borowe,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Or money getest thou none.’

65 ‘I haue none other,’ sayde the knyght,
‘The sothe for to say,
But yf yt be Our der Lady;
She fayled me neuer or thys day.’

66 ‘By dere worthy God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘To seche all Englonde thorowe,
Yet fonde I neuer to my pay
A moche better borowe.

67 ‘Come nowe furth, Litell Johnn,
And go to my tresour ,
And bringe me foure hundered pound,
And loke well tolde it be.’

68 Furth than went Litell Johnn,
And Scarlok went before;
He tolde oute foure hundred pounde
By eight and twenty score.

69 ‘Is thys well tolde?’ sayde [litell] Much;
Johnn sayde, ‘What gre[ue]th the?
It is almus to helpe a gentyll knyght,
That is fal in pouert .

70 ‘Master,’ than sayde Lityll John,
‘His clothinge is full thynne;
Ye must gyue the knight a lyueray,
To lappe his body therin.

71 ‘For ye haue scarlet and grene, mayster,
And man[y] a riche aray;
Ther is no marchaunt in mery Englond
So ryche, I dare well say.’

72 ‘Take hym thre yerdes of euery colour,
And loke well mete that it be;’
Lytell Johnn toke none other mesure
But his bow -tree.

73 And at euery handfull that he met
He lep d foot s three;
‘What deuyll s drapar,’ sayid litell Muche,
‘Thynkest thou for to be?’

74 Scarlok stode full stil and loughe,
And sayd, By God Almyght,
Johnn may gyue hym gode mesure,
For it costeth hym but lyght.

75 ‘Mayster,’ than said Litell Johnn
To gentill Robyn Hode,
‘Ye must giue the knig[h]t a hors,
To lede home this gode.’

76 ‘Take hym a gray coursar,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And a saydle newe;
He is Oure Ladye’s messangere;
God graunt that he be true.’

77 ‘And a gode palfray,’ sayde lytell Much,
‘To mayntene hym in his right;’
‘And a peyre of bot s,’ sayde Scarlock,
‘For he is a gentyll knight.’

78 ‘What shalt thou gyue hym, Litell John?’ said Robyn;
‘Sir, a peyre of gilt sporis clene,
To pray for all this company;
God bringe hym out of tene.’

79 ‘Whan shal mi day be,’ said the knight,
‘Sir, and your wyll be?’
‘This day twelue moneth,’ saide Robyn,
‘Vnder this gren -wode tre.

80 ‘It were greate sham ,’ sayde Robyn,
‘A knight alone to ryde,
Without squyre, yoman, or page,
To walk by his syde.

81 ‘I shall the lende Litell John, my man,
For he shalbe thy knaue;
In a yema[n]’s stede he may the stande,
If thou greate ned haue.’

82 Now is the knight gone on his way;
This game hym thought full gode;
Whanne he loked on Bernesdale
He blessyd Robyn Hode.

83 And whanne he thought on Bernysdale,
On Scarlok, Much, and Johnn,
He blyssyd them for the best company
That euer he in come.

84 Then spake that gentyll knyght,
To Lytel Johan gan he saye,
To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune,
To Saynt Mary abbay.

85 And to the abbot of that place
Foure hondred pounde I must pay;
And but I be there vpon this nyght
My londe is lost for ay.

86 The abbot sayd to his couent,
There he stode on grounde,
This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght
And borowed foure hondred pounde.

87 [He borowed foure hondred pounde,]
Upon all his lond fre;
But he come this ylk day
Dysheryte shall he be.

88 ‘It is full erely,’ sayd the pryoure,
‘The day is not yet ferre gone;
I had leuer to pay an hondred pounde,
And lay downe anone.

89 ‘The knyght is ferre beyonde the see,
In Englonde is his ryght,
And suffreth honger and colde,
And many a sory nyght.

90 ‘It were grete pyt ,’ said the pryoure,
‘So to haue his londe;
And ye be so lyght of your consyence,
Ye do to hym moch wronge.’

91 ‘Thou arte euer in my berde,’ sayd the abbot,
‘By God and Saynt Rycharde;’
With that cam in a fat-heded monke,
The heygh selerer.

92 ‘He is dede or hanged,’ sayd the monke,
‘By God that bought me dere,
And we shall haue to spende in this place
Foure hondred pounde by yere.’

93 The abbot and the hy selerer
Stert forthe full bolde,
The [hye] iustyce of Englonde
The abbot there dyde holde.

94 The hy iustyce and many mo
Had take in to they[r] honde
Holy all the knyght s det,
To put that knyght to wronge.

95 They demed the knyght wonder sore,
The abbot and his meyn :
‘But he come this ylk day
Dysheryte shall he be.’

96 ‘He wyll not come yet,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘Idare well vndertake;’
But in sorowe tym for them all
The knyght came to the gate.

97 Than bespake that gentyll knyght
Untyll his meyn :
Now put on your symple wedes
That ye brought fro the see.

98 [They put on their symple wedes,]
They came to the gates anone;
The porter was redy hymselfe,
And welcomed them euerychone.

99 ‘Welcome, syr knyght,’ sayd the porter;
‘My lorde to mete is he,
And so is many a gentyll man,
For the loue of the.’

100 The porter swore a full grete othe,

146 God that mad me,
Here be the best coresed hors
That euer yet sawe I me.

101 ‘Lede them in to the stable,’ he sayd,
‘That eased myght they be;’
‘They shall not come therin,’ sayd the knyght,
‘By God that dyed on a tre.’

102 Lord s were to mete isette
In that abbotes hall;
The knyght went forth and kneled downe,
And salued them grete and small.

103 ‘Do gladly, syr abbot,’ sayd the knyght,
‘I am come to holde my day:’
The fyrst word the abbot spake,
‘Hast thou brought my pay?’

104 ‘Not one peny,’ sayd the knyght,
‘By God that maked me;’
‘Thou art a shrewed dettour,’ sayd the abbot;
‘Syr iustyce, drynke to me.

105 ‘What doost thou here,’ sayd the abbot,
‘But thou haddest brought thy pay?’
‘For God,’ than sayd the knyght,
‘To pray of a lenger daye.’

106 ‘Thy daye is broke,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘Londe getest thou none:’
‘Now, good syr iustyce, be my frende,
And fende me of my fone!’

107 ‘I am holde with the abbot,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘Both with cloth and fee :’
‘Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!’
‘Nay, for God,’ sayd he.

108 ‘Now, good syr abbot, be my frende,
For thy curteys ,
And holde my lond s in thy honde
Tyll I haue made the gree!

109 ‘And I wyll be thy true seruaunte,
And trewely seru the,
Tyl ye haue foure hondred pounde
Of money good and free.’

110 The abbot sware a full grete othe,
‘By God that dyed on a tree,
Get the londe where thou may,
For thou getest none of me.’

111 ‘By dere worthy God,’ then sayd the knyght,
‘That all this world wrought,
But I haue my londe agayne,
Full dere it shall be bought.

112 ‘God, that was of a mayden borne,
Leue vs well to spede!
For it is good to assay a frende
Or that a man haue nede.’

113 The abbot lothely on hym gan loke,
And vylaynesly hym gan call;
‘Out,’ he sayd, ’Thou fals knyght,
Spede the out of my hall!’

114 ‘Thou lyest,’ then sayd the gentyll knyght,
‘Abbot, in thy hal;
False knyght was I neuer,
By God that made vs all.’

115 Vp then stode that gentyll knyght,
To the abbot sayd he,
To suffre a knyght to knele so longe,
Thou canst no curteysye.

116 In ioust s and in tournement
Full ferre than haue I be,
And put my selfe as ferre in prees
As ony that euer I se.

117 ‘What wyll ye gyue more,’ sayd the iustice,
‘And the knyght shall make a releyse?
And elles dare I safly swere
Ye holde neuer your londe in pees.’

118 ‘An hondred pounde,’ sayd the abbot;
The justice sayd, Gyue hym two;
‘Nay, be God,’ sayd the knyght,
‘Yit gete ye it not so.

119 ‘Though ye wolde gyue a thousand more,
Yet were ye neuer the nere;
Shall there neuer be myn heyre
Abbot, iustice, ne frere.’

120 He stert hym to a borde anone,
Tyll a table rounde,
And there he shoke oute of a bagge
Euen four hundred pound.

121 ‘Haue here thi golde, sir abbot,’ saide the knight,
‘Which that thou lentest me;
Had thou ben curtes at my comynge,
Rewarded shuldest thou haue be.’

122 The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,
For all his ryall fare;
He cast his hede on his shulder,
And fast began to stare.

123 ‘Take me my golde agayne,’ saide the abbot,
‘Sir iustice, that I toke the:’
‘Not a peni,’ said the iustice,
‘Bi Go[d, that dy]ed on tree.’

124 ‘Sir [abbot, and ye me]n of lawe,
Now haue I holde my daye;
Now shall I haue my londe agayne,
For ought that you can saye.’

125 The knyght stert out of the dore,
Awaye was all his care,
And on he put his good clothynge,
The other he lefte there.

126 He wente hym forth full mery syngynge,
As men haue tolde in tale;
His lady met hym at the gate,
At home in Verysdale.

127 ‘Welcome, my lorde,’ sayd his lady;
‘Syr, lost is all your good?’
‘Be mery, dame,’ sayd the knyght,
‘And pray for Robyn Hode,

128 ‘That euer his soul be in blysse:
He holpe me out of tene;
Ne had be his kynd nesse,
Beggers had we bene.

129 ‘The abbot and I accorded ben,
He is serued of his pay;
The god yoman lent it me,
As I cam by the way.’

130 This knight than dwelled fayre at home,
The sothe for to saye,
Tyll he had gete four hundred pound,
Al redy for to pay.

131 He purueyed him an hundred bowes,
The stryng s well ydyght,
An hundred shefe of arow s gode,
The hedys burneshed full bryght;

132 And euery arowe an ell longe,
With pecok wel idyght,
Inocked all with whyte siluer;
It was a semely syght.

133 He purueyed hym an [hondreth men],
Well harness[ed in that stede],
And hym selfe in that same sete,
And clothed in whyte and rede.

134 He bare a launsgay in his honde,
And a man ledde his male,
And reden with a lyght songe
Vnto Bernysdale.

135 But as he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng,
And there taryed was he,
And there was all the best yemen
Of all the west countree.

136 A full fayre game there was vp set,
A whyte bulle vp i-pyght,
A grete courser, with sadle and brydil,
With golde burnyssht full bryght.

137 A payre of gloues, a rede golde rynge,
A pype of wyne, in fay;
What man that bereth hym best i-wys
The pryce shall bere away.

138 There was a yoman in that place,
And best worthy was he,
And for he was ferre and frembde bested,
Slayne he shulde haue be.

139 The knight had ruthe of this yoman,
In plac where he stode;
He sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme,
For loue of Robyn Hode.

140 The knyght presed in to the place,
An hundreth folowed hym [free],
With bow s bent and arow s sharpe,
For to shende that companye.

141 They shulderd all and made hym rome,
To wete what he wolde say;
He toke the yeman bi the hande,
And gaue hym al the play .

142 He gaue hym fyue marke for his wyne,
There it lay on the molde,
And bad it shulde be set a broche,
Drynk who so wolde.

143 Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght,
Tyll that play was done;
So longe abode Robyn fastinge,
Thre hour s after the none.

144 Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,
All that nowe be here;
Of Litell Johnn, that was the knight s man,
Goode myrth ye shall here.

145 It was vpon a mery day
That yonge men wolde go shete;
Lytell Johnn fet his bowe anone,
And sayde he wolde them mete.

146 Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute,
And alway he slet the wande;
The proud sherif of Notingham
By the mark s can stande.

147 The sherif swore a full greate othe:
‘By hym that dyede on a tre,
This man is the best arsch re
That euer yet sawe I [me.]

148 ‘Say me nowe, wight yonge man,
What is nowe thy name?
In what countre were thou borne,
And where is thy wonynge wane?’

149 ‘In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,
I-wys al of my dame;
Men cal me Reynolde Gren lef
Whan I am at home.’

150 ‘Sey me, Reyno[l]de Gren lefe,
Wolde thou dwell with me?
And euery yere I woll the gyue
Twenty marke to thy fee.’

151 ‘I haue a maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn,
‘A curteys knight is he;
May ye leu gete of hym,
The better may it be.’

152 The sherif gate Litell John
Twelue moneth s of the knight;
Therfore he gaue him right anone
A gode hors and a wight.

153 Nowe is Litell John the sherif s man,
God lende vs well to spede!
But alwey thought Lytell John
To quyte hym wele his mede.

154 ‘Nowe so God me help ,’ sayde Litell John,
‘And by my true leutye,
I shall be the worst seruaunt to hym
That euer yet had he.’

155 fell vpon a Wednesday
The sherif on huntynge was gone,
And Litel Iohn lay in his bed,
And was foriete at home.

156 Therfore he was fastinge
Til it was past the none;
‘Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the,
Gyue me my dynere,’ saide Litell John.

157 ‘It is longe for Gren lefe
Fastinge thus for to be;
Therfor I pray the, sir stuarde,
Mi dyner gif me.’

158 ‘Shalt thou neuer ete ne drynke,’ saide the stuarde,
‘Tyll my lorde be come to towne:’
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide Litell John,
‘I had leuer to crake thy crowne.’

159 The boteler was full vncurteys,
There he stode on flore;
He start to the botery
And shet fast the dore.

160 Lytell Johnn gaue the boteler suche a tap
His backe went nere in two;
Though he liued an hundred ier,
The wors shuld he go.

161 He sporned the dore with his fote;
It went open wel and fyne;
And there he made large lyueray,
Bothe of ale and of wyne.

162 ‘Sith ye wol nat dyne,’ sayde Litell John,
‘I shall gyue you to drinke;
And though ye lyue an hundred wynter,
On Lytel Johnn ye shall thinke.’

163 Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,
The whil that he wolde;
The sherife had in his kechyn a coke,
A stoute man and a bolde.

164 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide the coke,
‘Thou arte a shrewde hynde
In ani hous for to dwel,
For to ask thus to dyne.’

165 And there he lent Litell John
God[ ] strokis thre;
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Lytell John,
‘These strokis lyked well me.

166 ‘Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,
And so thinketh me;
And or I pas fro this place
Assayed better shalt thou be.’

167 Lytell Johnn drew a ful gode sworde,
The coke toke another in hande;
They thought no thynge for to fle,
But stifly for to stande.

168 There they faught sore togedere
Two myl way and well more;
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountnaunce of an owre.

169 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn,
And by my true lewt ,
Thou art one of the best sworde-men
That euer yit sawe I [me.]

170 ‘Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,
To gren wode thou shuldest with me,
And two times in the yere thy clothinge
Chaunged shuld be;

171 ‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode
Twenty merke to thy fe:’
‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke,
‘And felow s woll we be.’

172 Thanne he fet to Lytell Johnn
The nowmbles of a do,
Gode brede, and full gode wyne;
They ete and drank theretoo.

173 And when they had dronkyn well,
Theyre trouth s togeder they plight
That they wo[l]de be with Robyn
That ylk sam nyght.

174 They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,
As fast as they myght gone;
The lokk s, that were of full gode stele,
They brake them euerichone.

175 They toke away the siluer vessell,
And all that they mig[h]t get;
Pecis, masars, ne sponis,
Wolde thei not forget.

176 Also [they] toke the god pens,
Thre hundred pounde and more,
And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode,
Under the gren wode hore.

177 ‘God the saue, my der mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell Johnn,
Welcome myght thou be.

178 ‘Also be that fayre yeman
Thou bryngest there with the;
What tydyng s fro Noty[n]gham?
Lytill Johnn, tell thou me.’

179 ‘Well the gretith the proud sheryf,
And sende[th] the here by me
His coke and his siluer vessell,
And thre hundred pounde and thre.’

180 ‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And to the Trenyt ,
It was neuer by his gode wyll
This gode is come to me.’

181 Lytyll Johnn there hym bethought
On a shrewde wyle;
Fyue myle in the forest he ran,
Hym happed all his wyll.

182 Than he met the proud sheref,
Huntynge with houndes and horne;
Lytell Johnn coude of curtesye,
And knelyd hym beforne.

183 ‘God the saue, my der mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
‘Reynolde Gren lefe,’ sayde the shryef,
‘Where hast thou nowe be?’

184 ‘I haue be in this forest;
A fayre syght can I se;
It was one of the fayrest syghtes
That euer yet sawe I me.

185 ‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,
His coloure is of grene;
Seuen score of dere vpon a herde
Be with hym all bydene.

186 ‘Their tynd s are so sharpe, maister,
Of sexty, and well mo,
That I durst not shote for drede,
Lest they wolde me slo.’

187 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref,
‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’
‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi der mayster,
Anone, and wende with me.’

188 The sherif rode, and Litell Johnn
Of fote he was smerte,
And whane they came before Robyn,
‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’

189 Still stode the proud sherief,
A sory man was he;
‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Gren lefe,
Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’

190 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn,
‘Mayster, ye be to blame;
I was mysserued of my dynere
Whan I was with you at home.’

191 Sone he was to souper sette,
And serued well with siluer white,
And whan the sherif sawe his vessell,
For sorowe he myght nat ete.

192 ‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sherif, for charit ,
And for the loue of Litill Johnn
Thy lufe I graunt to the.’

193 Whan they had souped well,
The day was al gone;
Robyn commaunde[d] Litell Johnn
To drawe of his hosen and his shone;

194 His kirtell, and his cote of pie,
That was fured well and fine,
And to[ke] hym a grene mantel,
To lap his body therin.

195 Robyn commaundyd his wight yonge men,
Vnder the gren -wode tree,
They shulde lye in that same sute,
That the sherif myght them see.

196 All nyght lay the proud sherif
In his breche and in his [s]chert;
No wonder it was, in gren wode,
Though his syd s gan to smerte.

197 ‘Make glade chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sheref, for charit ;
For this is our ordre i-wys,
Vnder the gren -wode tree.’

198 ‘This is harder order,’ sayde the sherief,
‘Than any ankir or frere;
For all the golde in mery Englonde
I wolde nat longe dwell her.’

199 ‘All this twelue monthes,’ sayde Robin,
‘Thou shalt dwell with me;
I shall the tech , proud sherif,
An outlaw for to be.’

200 ‘Or I be here another nyght,’ sayde the sherif,
‘Robyn, nowe pray I the,
Smyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe,
And I forgyue it the.

201 ‘Lat me go,’ than sayde the sherif,
‘For saynt charit ,
And I woll be the best[ ] frende
That euer yet had ye.’

202 ‘Thou shalt swere me an othe,’ sayde Robyn,
‘On my bright bronde;
Shalt thou neuer awayte me scathe,
By water ne by lande.

203 ‘And if thou fynde any of my men,
By nyght or [by] day,
Vpon thyn oth thou shalt swere
To helpe them tha[t] thou may.’

204 Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe,
And home he began to gone;
He was as full of gren wode
As euer was hepe of stone.

205 The sherif dwelled in Notingham;
He was fayne he was agone;
And Robyn and his mery men
Went to wode anone.

206 ‘Go we to dyner,’ sayde Littell Johnn;
Robyn Hode sayde, Nay;
For I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,
Foe she sent me nat my pay.

207 ‘Haue no doute, maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn;
‘Yet is nat the sonne at rest;
For I dare say, and sauely swere,
The knight is true and truste.’

208 ‘Take thy bowe in thy hande,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Late Much wende with the,
And so shal Wyllyam Scarlok,
And no man abyde with me.

209 ‘And walke vp vnder the Sayles,
And to Watlynge-strete,
And wayte after some vnketh gest;
Vp-chaunce ye may them mete.

210 ‘Whether he be messengere,
Or a man that myrth s can,
Of my good he shall haue some,
Yf he be a por man.’

211 Forth then stert Lytel Johan,
Half in tray and tene,
And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,
Under a mantel of grene.

212 They went vp to the Sayles,
These yemen all thre;
They loked est, they loked west,
They myght no man se.

213 But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale,
By the hy waye,
Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,
Eche on a good palferay.

214 Then bespake Lytell Johan,
To Much he gan say,
I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,
That [these] monkes haue brought our pay.

215 ‘Make glad chere,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘And frese your bowes of ewe,
And loke your hert s be seker and sad,
Your stryng s trusty and trewe.

216 ‘The monke hath two and fifty [men,]
And seuen somers full stronge;
There rydeth no bysshop in this londe
So ryally, I vnderstond.

217 ‘Brethern,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Here are no more but we thre;
But we bryng them to dyner,
Our mayster dare we not se.

218 ‘Bende your bowes,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Make all yon prese to stonde;
The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth
Is closed in my honde.

219 ‘Abyde, chorle monke,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘No ferther that thou gone;
Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God,
Thy deth is in my honde.

220 ‘And euyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ryght vnder thy hatt s bonde;
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.’

221 ‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke;
Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode;
‘He is a stronge thefe,’ sayd the monke,
‘Of hym herd I neuer good.’

222 ‘Thou lyest,’ than sayd Lytell Johan,
‘And that shall rew the;
He is a yeman of the forest,
To dyne he hath bod the.’

223 Much was redy with a bolte,
Redly and anone,
He set the monke to-fore the brest,
To the grounde that he can gone.

224 Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen
There abode not one,
Saf a lytell page and a grome,
To lede the somers with Lytel Johan.

225 They brought the monke to the lodg -dore,
Whether he were loth or lefe,
For to speke with Robyn Hode,
Maugre in theyr tethe.

226 Robyn dyde adowne his hode,
The monke whan that he se;
The monke was not so curt yse,
His hode then let he be.

227 ‘He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,’
Than sayd Lytell Johan:
‘Thereof no force,’ sayd Robyn,
‘For curteysy can he none.

228 ‘How many men,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Had this monke, Johan?’
‘Fyfty and two whan that we met,
But many of them be gone.’

229 ‘Let blowe a horne,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That felaushyp may vs knowe;’
Seuen score of wyght yemen
Came pryckynge on a rowe.

230 And euerych of them a good mantell
Of scarlet and of raye;
All they came to good Robyn,
To wyte what he wolde say.

231 They made the monke to wasshe and wype,
And syt at his denere,
Robyn Hode and Lytell Johan
They serued him both in-fere.

232 ‘Do gladly, monke,’ sayd Robyn.
‘Gramercy, syr,’ sayd he.
‘Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,
And who is your avow ?’

233 ‘Saynt Mary abbay,’ sayd the monke,
‘Though I be symple here.’
‘In what offyce?’ sayd Robyn:
‘Syr, the hy selerer.’

234 ‘Ye be the more welcome,’ sayd Robyn,
‘So euer mote I the;
Fyll of the best wyne,’ sayd Robyn,
’This monke shall drynke to me.

235 ‘But I haue grete meruayle,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Of all this long day;
I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,
She sent me not my pay.’

236 ‘Haue no doute, mayster,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ye haue no nede, I saye;
This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,
For he is of her abbay.’

237 ‘And she was a borowe,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Betwene a knyght and me,
Of a lytell money that I hym lent,
Under the g’Rene-wode tree.

238 ‘And yf thou hast that syluer ibrought,
I pray the let me se;
And I shall help the eftsones,
Yf thou haue nede to me.’

239 The monke swore a full grete othe,
With a sory chere,
‘Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,
Herde I neuer ere.’

240 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Monke, thou art to blame;
For God is holde a ryghtwys man,
And so is his dame.

241 ‘Thou toldest with thyn own tonge,
Thou may not say nay,
How thou arte her seruaunt,
And seruest her euery day.

242 ‘And thou art made her messengere,
My money for to pay;
Therfore I cun the mor thanke
Thou arte come at thy day.

243 ‘What is in your cofers?’ sayd Robyn,
‘Trewe than tell thou me:’
‘Syr,’ he sayd, ’Twenty marke,
Al so mote I the.’

244 ‘Yf there be no more,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I wyll not one peny;
Yf thou hast myster of ony more,
Syr, more I shall lende to the.

245 ‘And yf I fynd [more,’ sayd] Robyn,
‘I-wys thou shalte it for gone;
For of thy spendynge-syluer, monke,
Thereof wyll I ryght none.

246 ‘Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,
And the trouth tell thou me;
If there be no more but twenty marke,
No peny that I se.’

247 Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,
As he had done before,
And he tolde out of the monk s male
Eyght [hondred] pounde and more.

248 Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,
And went to his mayster in hast;
‘Syr,’ he sayd, ’The monke is trewe ynowe,
Our Lady hath doubled your cast.’

249 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn-+--+-
‘Monke, what tolde I the?-+--+-
Our Lady is the trewest woman
That euer yet founde I me.

250 ‘By dere worthy God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘To seche all Englond thorowe,
Yet founde I neuer to my pay
A moche better borowe.

251 ‘Fyll of the best wyne, and do hym drynke,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And grete well thy lady hende,
And yf she haue nede to Robyn Hode,
A frende she shall hym fynde.

252 ‘And yf she nedeth ony more syluer,
Come thou agayne to me,
And, by this token she hath me sent,
She shall haue such thre.’

253 The monke was goynge to London ward,
There to holde grete mote,
The knyght that rode so hye on hors,
To brynge hym vnder fote.

254 ‘Whether be ye away?’ sayd Robyn:
‘Syr, to maners in this londe,
Too reken with our reues,
That haue done moch wronge.’

255 ‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And harken to my tale;
A better yemen I knowe none,
To seke a monk s male.’

256 ‘How moch is in yonder other corser?’ sayd Robyn,
‘The soth must we see:’
‘By Our Lady,’ than sayd the monke,
‘That were no curteysye,

257 ‘To bydde a man to dyner,
And syth hym bete and bynde.’
‘It is our old maner,’ sayd Robyn,
‘To leue but lytell behynde.’

258 The monke toke the hors with spore,
No lenger wolde he abyde:
‘Ask to drynk ,’ than sayd Robyn,
‘Or that ye forther ryde.’

259 ‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd the monke,
‘Me reweth I cam so nere;
For better chepe I myght haue dyned
In Blythe or in Dankestere.’

260 ‘Grete well your abbot,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And your pryour, I you pray,
And byd hym send me such a monke
To dyner euery day.’

261 Now lete we that monke be styll,
And speke we of that knyght:
Yet he came to holde his day,
Whyle that it was lyght.

262 He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale,
Under the gren -wode tre,
And he founde there Robyn Hode,
And all his mery meyn .

263 The knyght lyght doune of his good palfray;
Robyn whan he gan see,
So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,
And set hym on his knee.

264 ‘God the sau , Robyn Hode,
And all this company:’
‘Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,
And ryght welcome to me.’

265 Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,
To that knyght so fre:
What ned dryueth the to gren wode?
I praye the, syr knyght, tell me.

266 ‘And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,
Why hast thou be so longe?’
‘For the abbot and the hy iustyce
Wolde haue had my londe.’

267 ‘Hast thou thy londe [a]gayne?’ sayd Robyn;
‘Treuth than tell thou me:’
‘Ye, for God,’ sayd the knyght,
‘And that thanke I God and the.

268 ‘But take not a grefe,’ sayd the knyght, ’That I haue be so longe;
I came by a wrastelynge,
And there I holpe a por yeman,
With wronge was put behynde.’

269 ‘Nay, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Syr knyght, that thanke I the;
What man that helpeth a good yeman,
His frende than wyll I be.’

270 ‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,’ than sayd the knyght,
‘The whiche ye lent to me;
And here is also twenty marke
For your curteysy.’

271 ‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd Robyn,
‘Thou broke it well for ay;
For Our Lady, by her [hy ] selerer,
Hath sent to me my pay.

272 ‘And yf I toke it i-twyse,
A shame it were to me;
But trewely, gentyll knyght,
Welcom arte thou to me.’

273 Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,
He leugh and had good chere:
‘By my trouthe,’ then sayd the knyght,
‘Your money is redy here.’

274 ‘Broke it well,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thou gentyll knyght so fre;
And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,
Under my trystell-tre.

275 ‘But what shall these bow s do?’ sayd Robyn,
‘And these arow s ifedred fre?’
‘By God,’ than sayd the knyght,
‘A por present to the.’

276 ‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And go to my treasur ,
And brynge me there foure hondred pounde;
The monke ouer-tolde it me.

277 ‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,
Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,
And bye hors and harnes good,
And gylte thy spores all newe.

278 ‘And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,
Com to Robyn Hode,
And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle,
The whyles I haue any good.

279 ‘And broke well thy foure hondred pound,
Whiche I lent to the,
And make thy selfe no more so bare,
By the counsell of me.’

280 Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,
The knyght all of his care:
God, that syt in heuen hye,
Graunte vs well to fare!

281 Now hath the knyght his leue i-take,
And wente hym on his way;
Robyn Hode and his mery men
Dwelled styll full many a day.

282 Lyth and lysten, gentil men,
And herken what I shall say,
How the proud[ ] sheryfe of Notyngham
Dyde crye a full fayre play;

283 That all the best archers of the north
Sholde come vpon a day,
And [he] that shoteth allther best
The game shall bere a way.

284 He that shoteth allther best,
Furthest fayre and lowe,
At a payre of fynly buttes,
Under the gren -wode shawe,

285 A ryght good arowe he shall haue,
The shaft of syluer whyte,
The hede and the feders of ryche red golde,
In Englond is none lyke.

286 This than herde good Robyn,
Under his trystell-tre:
‘Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men;
That shotynge wyll I se.

287 ‘Buske you, my mery yonge men,
Ye shall go with me;
And I wyll wete the shryu s fayth,
Trewe and yf he be.’

288 Whan they had theyr bowes i-bent,
Theyr takles fedred fre,
Seuen score of wyght yonge men
Stode by Robyns kne.

289 Whan they cam to Notyngham,
The buttes were fayre and longe;
Many was the bolde archere
That shoted with bow s stronge.

290 ‘There shall but syx shote with me;
The other shal kepe my he[ue]de,
And stand with good bow s bent,
That I be not desceyued.’

291 The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende,
And that was Robyn Hode,
And that behelde the proud[ ] sheryfe,
All by the but [as] he stode.

292 Thry s Robyn shot about,
And alway he slist the wand,
And so dyde good Gylberte
Wyth the whyt hande.

293 Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke
Were archers good and fre;
Lytell Much and good Reynolde,
The worste wolde they not be.

294 Whan they had shot aboute,
These archours fayre and good,
Euermore was the best,
For soth, Robyn Hode.

295 Hym was delyuered the good arowe,
For best worthy was he;
He toke the yeft so curteysly,
To gren wode wolde he.

296 They cryed out on Robyn Hode,
And grete horn s gan they blowe:
‘Wo worth the, treason!’ sayd Robyn,
‘Full euyl thou art to knowe.

297 ‘And wo be thou! thou proud sheryf,
Thus gladdynge thy gest;
Other wyse thou behot me
In yonder wylde forest.

298 ‘But had I the in gren wode,
Under my trystell-tre,
Thou sholdest leue me a better wedde
Than thy trewe lewt .’

299 Full many a bow there was bent,
And arow s let they glyde;
Many a kyrtell there was rent,
And hurt many a syde.

300 The outlawes shot was so stronge
That no man myght them dryue,
And the proud[ ] sheryf s men,
They fled away full blyue.

301 Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke,
In gren wode he wolde haue be;
Many an arowe there was shot
Amonge that company.

302 Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,
With an arowe in his kne,
That he myght neyther go nor ryde;
It was full grete pyt .

303 ‘Mayster,’ then sayd Lytell Johan,
‘If euer thou loue[d]st me,
And for that ylk lord s loue
That dyed vpon a tre,

304 ‘And for the medes of my seruyce,
That I haue serued the,
Lete neuer the proud sheryf
Alyue now fynd me.

305 ‘But take out thy brown swerde,
And smyte all of my hede,
And gyue me wound s depe and wyde;
No lyfe on me be lefte.’

306 ‘I wolde not that,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Johan, that thou were slawe,
For all the golde in mery Englonde,
Though it lay now on a rawe.’

307 ‘God forbede,’ sayd Lytell Much,
‘That dyed on a tre,
That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,
Parte our company.’

308 Up he toke hym on his backe,
And bare hym well a myle;
Many a tyme he layd hym downe,
And shot another whyle.

309 n was there a fayre castell,
A lytell within the wode;
Double-dyched it was about,
And walled, by the rode.

310 And there dwelled that gentyll knyght,
Syr Rychard at the Lee,
That Robyn had lent his good,
Under the gren -wode tree.

311 In he toke good Robyn,
And all his company:
‘Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode,
Welcome arte thou to me;

312 ‘And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort,
And of thy curteysye,
And of thy gret kynd nesse,
Under the gren -wode tre.

313 ‘I loue no man in all this worlde
So much as I do the;
For all the proud[ ] sheryf of Notyngham,
Ryght here shalt thou be.

314 ‘Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge,
And let no man come in,
And arme you well, and make you redy,
And to the walles ye wynne.

315 ‘For one thynge, Robyn, I the behote;
Iswere by Saynt Quyntyne,
These forty dayes thou wonnest with me,
To soupe, ete, and dyne.’

316 Bordes were layde, and clothes were spredde,
Redely and anone;
Robyn Hode and his mery men
To met can they gone.

317 Lythe and lysten, gentylmen,
And herkyn to your songe;
Howe the proud shyref of Notyngham,
And men of armys stronge,

318 Full fast cam to the hy shyref,
The contr vp to route,
And they besette the knyght s castell,
The wall s all aboute.

319 The proud shyref loude gan crye,
And sayde, Thou traytour knight,
Thou kepest here the kynges enemys,
Agaynst the lawe and right.

320 ‘Syr, I wyll auowe that I haue done,
The dedys that here be dyght,
Vpon all the land s that I haue,
As I am a trew knyght.

321 ‘Wende furth, sirs, on your way,
And do no more to me
Tyll ye wyt oure kyng s wille,
What he wyll say to the.’

322 The shyref thus had his answere,
Without any lesynge;
[Fu]rth he yede to London towne,
All for to tel our kinge.

323 Ther he telde him of that knight,
And eke of Robyn Hode,
And also of the bolde archars,
That were soo noble and gode.

324 ‘He wyll auowe that he hath done,
To mayntene the outlawes stronge;
He wyll be lorde, and set you at nought,
In all the northe londe.’

325 ‘I wil be at Notyngham,’ saide our kynge,
‘Within this fourteenyght,
And take I wyll Robyn Hode,
And so I wyll that knight.

326 ‘Go nowe home, shyref,’ sayde our kynge,
‘And do as I byd the;
And ordeyn gode archers ynowe,
Of all the wyd contr .’

327 The shyref had his leue i-take,
And went hym on his way,
And Robyn Hode to gren wode,
Vpon a certen day.

328 And Lytel John was hole of the arowe
That shot was in his kne,
And dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode,
Vnder the grene-wod tree.

329 Robyn Hode walked in the forest,
Vnder the leuys grene;
The proud shyref of Notyngham
Thereof he had grete tene.

330 The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode,
He myght not haue his pray;
Than he awayted this gentyll knyght,
Bothe by nyght and day.

331 Euer he wayted the gentyll knyght,
Syr Richarde at the Lee,
As he went on haukynge by the ryuer-syde,
And let [his] hauk s flee.

332 Toke he there this gentyll knight,
With men of armys stronge,
And led hym to Notyngham warde,
Bounde bothe fote and hande.

333 The sheref sware a full grete othe,
Bi hym that dyed on rode,
He had leuer than an hundred pound
That he had Robyn Hode.

334 This harde the knyght s wyfe,
A fayr lady and a free;
She set hir on a gode palfrey,
To gre’Ne wode anone rode she.

335 Whanne she cam in the forest,
Vnder the gren -wode tree,
Fonde she there Robyn Hode,
And al his fayre men .

336 ‘God the sau , god Robyn,
And all thy company;
For Our der Ladyes sake,
A bon graunte thou me.

337 ‘Late neuer my wedded lorde
Shamefully slayne be;
He is fast bowne to Notingham warde,
For the loue of the.’

338 Anone than saide goode Robyn
To that lady so fre,
What man hath your lorde [i-]take?
. . . . . .

339 . . . . . .
‘For soth as I the say;
He is nat yet thre myl s
Passed on his way.’

340 Vp than sterte gode Robyn,
As man that had ben wode:
‘Buske you, my mery men,
For hym that dyed on rode.

341 ‘And he that this sorowe forsaketh,
By hym that dyed on tre,
Shall he neuer in gren wode
No lenger dwel with me.’

342 Sone there were gode bow s bent,
Mo than seuen score;
Hedge ne dyche spared they none
That was them before.

343 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘The sherif wolde I fayne see;
And if I may hym take,
I-quyte shall it be.’

344 And whan they came to Notingham,
They walked in the strete;
And with the proud sherif i-wys
Son can they mete.

345 ‘Abyde, thou proud sherif,’ he sayde,
‘Abyde, and speke with me;
Of some tidinges of oure kinge
I wolde fayne here of the.

346 ‘This seuen yere, by dere worthy God,
Ne yede I this fast on fote;
I make myn auowe to God, thou proud sherif,
It is nat for thy gode.’

347 Robyn bent a full goode bowe,
An arrowe he drowe at wyll;
He hit so the proud sherife
Vpon the grounde he lay full still.

348 And or he myght vp aryse,
On his fete to stonde,
He smote of the sherifs hede
With his bright[ ] bronde.

349 ‘Lye thou there, thou proud sherife,
Euyll mote thou cheue!
There myght no man to the truste
The whyles thou were a lyue.’

350 His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes,
That were so sharpe and kene,
And layde on the sheryues men,
And dryued them downe bydene.

351 Robyn stert to that knyght,
And cut a two his bonde,
And toke hym in his hand a bowe,
And bad hym by hym stonde.

352 ‘Leue thy hors the behynde,
And lerne for to renne;
Thou shalt with me to gren wode,
Through myr , mosse, and fenne.

353 ‘Thou shalt with me to gren wode,
Without ony leasynge,
Tyll that I haue gete vs grace
Of Edwarde, our comly kynge.’

354 The kynge came to Notynghame,
With knyght s in grete araye,
For to take that gentyll knyght
And Robyn Hode, and yf he may.

355 He asked men of that countr
After Robyn Hode,
And after that gentyll knyght,
That was so bolde and stout.

356 Whan they had tolde hym the case
Our kynge vnderstode ther tale,
And seased in his honde
The knyght s lond s all.

357 All the passe of Lancasshyre
He went both ferre and nere,
Tyll he came to Plomton Parke;
He faylyd many of his dere.

358 There our kynge was wont to se
Herd s many one,
He coud vnneth fynde one dere,
That bare ony good horne.

359 The kynge was wonder wroth withall,
And swore by the Trynyt ,
‘I wolde I had Robyn Hode,
With eyen I myght hym se.

360 ‘And he that wolde smyte of the knyght s hede,
And brynge it to me,
He shall haue the knyght s londes,
Syr Rycharde at the Le.

361 ‘I gyue it hym with my charter,
And sele it [with] my honde,
To haue and holde for euer more,
In all mery Englonde.’

362 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,
That was treue in his fay:
A, my leeg lorde the kynge,
One worde I shall you say.

363 There is no man in this countr
May haue the knyght s londes,
Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde of gone,
And bere a bowe in his hondes,

364 That he ne shall lese his hede,
That is the best ball in his hode:
Giue it no man, my lorde the kynge,
That ye wyll any good.

365 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge
In Notyngham, and well more;
Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,
In what countr that he were.

366 But alway went good Robyn
By halke and eke by hyll,
And alway slewe the kyng s dere,
And welt them at his wyll.

367 Than bespake a proude fostere,
That stode by our kyng s kne;
Yf ye wyll se good Robyn,
Ye must do after me.

368 Take fyue of the best knyght s
That be in your lede,
And walke downe by yon abbay,
And gete you monk s wede.

369 And I wyll be your led s-man,
And lede you the way,
And or ye come to Notyngham,
Myn hede then dare I lay,

370 That ye shall mete with good Robyn,
On lyue yf that he be;
Or ye come to Notyngham,
With eyen ye shall hym se.

371 Full hast[ ]ly our kynge was dyght,
So were his knyght s fyue,
Euerych of them in monk s wede,
And hasted them thyder blyve.

372 Our kynge was grete aboue his cole,
A brode hat on his crowne,
Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,
They rode up in-to the towne.

373 Styf bot s our kynge had on,
Forsoth as I you say;
He rode syngynge to gren wode,
The couent was clothed in graye.

374 His male-hors and his gret somers
Folowed our kynge behynde,
Tyll they came to gren wode,
A myle vnder the lynde.

375 There they met with good Robyn,
Stondynge on the waye,
And so dyde many a bolde archere,
For soth as I you say.

376 Robyn toke the kyng s hors,
Hast ly in that stede,
And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leue,
A whyle ye must abyde.

377 ‘We be yemen of this foreste,
Vnder the gren -wode tre;
We lyue by our kyng s dere,
[Other shyft haue not wee.]

378 ‘And ye haue chyrches and rent s both,
And gold full grete plent ;
Gyue vs some of your spendynge,
For saynt[ ] charyt .’

379 Than bespake our cumly kynge,
Anone than sayd he;
I brought no more to gren wode
But forty pounde with me.

380 I haue layne at Notyngham
This fourtynyght with our kynge,
And spent I haue full moche good,
On many a grete lordynge.

381 And I haue but forty pounde,
No more than haue I me;
But yf I had an hondred pounde,
I wolde vouch it safe on the.

382 Robyn toke the forty pounde,
And departed it in two partye;
Halfendell he gaue his mery men,
And bad them mery to be.

383 Full curteysly Robyn gan say;
Syr, haue this for your spendyng;
We shall mete another day;
‘Gramercy,’ than sayd our kynge.

384 ‘But well the greteth Edwarde, our kynge,
And sent to the his seale,
And byddeth the com to Notyngham,
Both to mete and mele’

385 He toke out the brod targe,
And sone he lete hym se;
Robyn coud his courteysy,
And set hym on his kne.

386 ‘I loue no man in all the worlde
So well as I do my kynge;
Welcome is my lord s seale;
And, monke, for thy tydynge,

387 ‘Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,
To day thou shalt dyne with me,
For the loue of my kynge,
Under my trystell-tre.’

388 Forth he lad our comly kynge,
Full fayre by the honde;
Many a dere there was slayne,
And full fast dyghtande.

389 Robyn toke a full grete horne,
And loude he gan blowe;
Seuen score of wyght yonge men
Came redy on a rowe.

390 All they kneled on theyr kne,
Full fayre before Robyn:
The kynge sayd hym selfe vntyll,
And swore by Saynt Austyn,

391 ‘Here is a wonder semely syght;
Me thynketh, by Godd s pyne,
His men are more at his byddynge
Then my men be at myn.’

392 Full hast[ ]ly was theyr dyner idyght,
And therto gan they gone;
They serued our kynge with al theyr myght,
Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.

393 Anone before our kynge was set
The fatt venyson,
The good whyte brede, the good rede wyne,
And therto the fyne ale and browne.

394 ‘Make good chere,’ said Robyn,
‘Abbot, for charyt ;
And for this ylk tydynge,
Blyssed mote thou be.

395 ‘Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,
Or thou hens wende;
Than thou may enfourme our kynge,
Whan ye togyder lende.’

396 Up they stert all in hast,
Theyr bow s were smartly bent;
Our kynge was neuer so sore agast,
He wende to haue be shente.

397 Two yerd s there were vp set,
Thereto gan they gange;
By fyfty pase, our kynge sayd,
The merk s were to longe.

398 On euery syde a rose-garlonde,
They shot vnder the lyne:
‘Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,’ sayd Robyn,
‘His takyll he shall tyne,

399 ‘And yelde it to his mayster,
Be it neuer so fyne;
For no man wyll I spare,
So drynke I ale or wyne:

400 ‘And bere a buffet on his hede,
I-wys ryght all bare:’
And all that fell in Robyns lote,
He smote them wonder sare.

401 Twyse Robyn shot aboute,
And euer he cleued the wande,
And so dyde good Gylberte
With the Whyt Hande.

402 Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
For nothynge wolde they spare;
When they fayled of the garlonde,
Robyn smote them full sore.

403 At the last shot that Robyn shot,
For all his frend s fare,
Yet he fayled of the garlonde
Thre fyngers and mare.

404 Than bespake good Gylberte,
And thus he gan say;
‘Mayster,’ he sayd, ’your takyll is lost,
Stande forth and take your pay.’

405 ‘If it be so,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That may no better be,
Syr abbot, I delyuer the myn arowe,
I pray the, syr, serue thou me.’

406 ‘It falleth not for myn ordre,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Robyn, by thy leue,
For to smyte no good yeman,
For doute I sholde hym greue.’

407 ‘Smyte on boldely,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I giue the larg leue:’
Anone our kynge, with that worde,
He folde vp his sleue,

408 And sych a buffet he gaue Robyn,
To grounde he yede full nere:
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere.

409 ‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I trowe thou canst well shete:’
Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode
Togeder gan they mete.

410 Robyn beheld our comly kynge
Wystly in the face,
So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,
And kneled downe in that place.

411 And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,
Whan they se them knele:
‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
Now I knowe you well.

412 ‘Mercy then, Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Vnder your trystyll-tre,
Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,
For my men and me!’

413 ‘Yes, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And also God me saue,
I ask mersy, my lorde the kynge,
And for my men I craue.’

414 ‘Yes, for God,’ than sayd our kynge,
‘And therto sent I me,
With that thou leue the gren wode,
And all thy company;

415 ‘And come home, syr, to my courte,
And there dwell with me.’
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And ryght so shall it be.

416 ‘I wyll come to your courte,
Your seruyse for to se,
And brynge with me of my men
Seuen score and thre.

417 ‘But me lyk well your seruyse,
I [wyll] come agayne full soone,
And shote at the donn dere,
As I am wonte to done.’

418 ‘Haste thou ony gren cloth,’ sayd our kynge,
‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’
‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thyrty yerd s and thre.’

419 ‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Now pray I the,
Sell me some of that cloth,
To me and my meyn .’

420 ‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn,
‘Or elles I were a fole;
Another day ye wyll me clothe,
I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’

421 The kynge kest of his col then,
A grene garment he dyde on,
And euery knyght also, i-wys,
Another had full sone.

422 Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,
They keste away theyr graye;
‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’
All thus our kynge gan say.

423 They bente theyr bowes, and forth they went,
Shotynge all in-fere,
Towarde the towne of Notyngham,
Outlawes as they were.

424 Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,
For soth as I you say,
And they shote plucke-buffet,
As they went by the way.

425 And many a buffet our kynge wan
Of Robyn Hode that day,
And nothynge spared good Robyn
Our kynge in his pay.

426 ‘So God me help ,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Thy game is nought to lere;
I sholde not get a shote of the,
Though I shote all this yere.’

427 All the people of Notyngham
They stode and behelde;
They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene
That couered all the felde.

428 Than euery man to other gan say,
I drede our kynge be slone;
Com Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys
On lyue he lefte neuer one.’

429 Full hast[ ]ly they began to fle,
Both yemen and knaues,
And olde wyues that myght euyll goo,
They hypped on theyr staues.

430 The kynge l[o]ughe full fast,
And commaunded them agayne;
When they se our comly kynge,
I-wys they were full fayne.

431 They ete and dranke, and made them glad,
And sange with not s hye;
Than bespake our comly kynge
To Syr Rycharde at the Lee.

432 He gaue hym there his londe agayne,
A good man he bad hym be;
Robyn thanked our comly kynge,
And set hym on his kne.

433 Had robyn dwelled in the kyng s courte
But twelue monethes and thre,
That [he had] spent an hondred pounde,
And all his mennes fe.

434 In euery place where Robyn came
Euer more he layde downe,
Both for knyght s and for squyres,
To gete hym grete renowne.

435 By than the yere was all agone
He had no man but twayne,
Lytell Johan and good Scathlocke,
With hym all for to gone.

436 Robyn sawe yonge men shote
Full fayre vpon a day;
‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn,
‘My welthe is went away.

437 ‘Somtyme I was an archere good,
A styffe and eke a stronge;
I was compted the best archere
That was in mery Englonde.

438 ‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn,
‘Alas and well a woo!
Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge,
Sorowe wyll me sloo.’

439 Forth than went Robyn Hode
Tyll he came to our kynge:
‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
Graunte me myn askynge.

440 ‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale,
That semely is to se,
It is of Mary Magdaleyne,
And thereto wolde I be.

441 ‘I myght neuer in this seuen nyght
No tyme to slepe ne wynke,
Nother all these seuen dayes
Nother ete ne drynke.

442 ‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,
I may not be therfro;
Barefote and wolwarde I haue hyght
Thyder for to go.’

443 ‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge,
‘It may no better be,
Seuen nyght I gyue the leue,
No lengre, to dwell fro me.’

444 ‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn,
And set hym on his kne;
He toke his leu full courteysly.
To gren wode then went he.

445 Whan he came to gren wode,
In a mery mornynge,
There he herde the not s small
Of byrd s mery syngynge.

446 ‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That I was last here;
Me lyste a lytell for to shote
At the donn dere.’

447 Robyn slewe a full grete harte;
His horne than gan he blow,
That all the outlawes of that forest
That horne coud they knowe,

448 And gadred them togyder,
In a lytell throwe.
Seuen score of wyght yonge men
Came redy on a rowe,

449 And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,
And set them on theyr kne:
‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ’our [der ] mayster,
Under this gren -wode tre.

450 Robyn dwelled in gren wode
Twenty yere and two;
For all drede of Edwarde our kynge,
Agayne wolde he not goo.

451 Yet he was begyled, i-wys,
Through a wycked woman,
The pryoresse of Kyrk sly,
That nye was of hys kynne:

452 For the loue of a knyght,
Syr Roger of Donkesly,
That was her own speciall;
Full euyll mot they the!

453 They toke togyder theyr counsell
Robyn Hode for to sle,
And how they myght best do that dede,
His banis for to be.

454 Than bespake good Robyn,
In place where as he stode,
‘To morow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly,
Craftely to be leten blode.’

455 Syr Roger of Donkestere,
By the pryoresse he lay,
And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,
Through theyr fals playe.

456 Cryst haue mercy on his soule,
That dyed on the rode!
For he was a good outlawe,
And dyde pore men moch god.

118. Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne

1 WHEN shawes beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,
And leeues both large and longe,
Itt is merrry, walking in the fayre forrest,
To heare the small birds songe.

2 The woodweele sang, and wold not cease,
Amongst the leaues a lyne:
And it is by two wight yeomen,
By deare God, that I meane.

3 ‘Me thought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bow mee froe;
If I bee Robin a-liue in this lande,
I’le be wrocken on both them towe.’

4 ‘Sweauens are swift, master,’ quoth Iohn,
‘As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
Ffor if itt be neuer soe lowde this night,
To-morrow it may be still.’

5 ‘Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
Ffor Iohn shall goe with mee;
For I’le goe seeke yond wight yeomen
In greenwood where the bee.’

6 Th cast on their gowne of greene,
A shooting gone are they,
Vntill they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest bee;
There were the ware of [a] wight yeoman,
His body leaned to a tree.

7 A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Had beene many a mans bane,
And he was cladd in his capull-hyde,
Topp, and tayle, and mayne.

8 ‘Stand you still, master,’ quoth Litle Iohn,
‘Vnder this trusty tree,
And I will goe to yond wight yeoman,
To know his meaning trulye.’

9 ‘A Iohn, by me thou setts noe store,
And that’s a farley thinge;
How offt send I my men beffore,
And tarry my-selfe behinde?

10 ‘It is noe cunning a knaue to ken,
And a man but heare him speake;
And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
Iohn, I wolde thy head breake.’

11 But often words they breeden bale,
That parted Robin and Iohn;
Iohn is gone to Barn[e]sdale,
The gates he knowes eche one.

12 And when hee came to Barnesdale,
Great heauinesse there hee hadd;
He found two of his fellowes
Were slaine both in a slade,

13 And Scarlett a foote flyinge was,
Ouer stockes and stone,
For the sheriffe with seuen score men
Fast after him is gone.

14 ‘Yett one shoote I’le shoote,’ sayes Litle Iohn,
‘With Crist his might and mayne;
I’le make yond fellow that flyes so fast
To be both glad and faine.

15 Iohn bent vp a good veiwe bow,
And fetteled him to shoote;
The bow was made of a tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.

16 ‘Woe worth thee, wicked wood,’ sayd Litle Iohn,
‘That ere thou grew on a tree!
Ffor this day thou art my bale,
My boote when thou shold bee!’

17 This shoote it was but loosely shott,
The arrowe flew in vaine,
And it mett one of tne sheriffes men;
Good William a Trent was slaine.

18 It had beene better for William a Trent
To hange vpon a gallowe
Then for to lye in the greenwoode,
There slaine with an arrowe.

19 And it is sayd, when men be mett,
Six can doe more then three:
And they haue tane Litle Iohn,
And bound him fast to a tree.

20 ‘Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,’ quoth the sheriffe,
‘And hanged hye on a hill:’
‘But thou may fayle,’ quoth Litle Iohn,
‘If itt be Christs owne will.’

21 Let vs leaue talking of Litle Iohn,
For hee is bound fast to a tree,
And talke of Guy and Robin Hood,
In the green woode where they bee.

22 How these two yeomen together they mett,
Vnder the leaues of lyne,
To see what marchandise they made
Euen at that same time.

23 ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ quoth Sir Guy;
‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ quoth hee;
‘Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,
A good archer thou seems to bee.’

24 ‘I am wilfull of my way,’ quoth Sir Guye,
‘And of my morning tyde:’
‘I’le lead thee through the wood,’ quoth Robin,
‘Good fellow, I’le be thy guide.’

25 ‘I seeke an outlaw,’ quoth Sir Guye,
‘Men call him Robin Hood;
I had rather meet with him vpon a day
Then forty pound of golde.’

26 ‘If you tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were better
Afore yee did part awaye;
Let vs some other pastime find,
Good fellow, I thee pray.

27 Let vs some other masteryes make,
And wee will walke in the woods euen;
Wee may chance mee[t] with Robin Hoode
Att some vnsett steven.’

28 They cutt them downe the summer shroggs
Which grew both vnder a bryar,
And sett them three score rood on twinn,
To shoote the prickes full neare.

29 ‘Leade on, good fellow,’ sayd Sir Guye,
‘Lead on, I doe bidd thee:’
‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘The leader thou shalt bee.’

30 The first good shoot that Robin ledd
Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe;
Guy was an archer good enoughe,
But he cold neere shoote soe.

31 The second shoote Sir Guy shott,
He shott within the garlande;
But Robin Hoode shott it better then hee,
For he cloue the good pricke-wande.

32 ‘Gods blessing on thy heart!’ sayes Guye,
‘Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode;
For an thy hart be as good as thy hands,
Thou were better then Robin Hood.

33 ‘Tell me thy name, good fellow,’ quoth Guy,

146 the leaues of lyne:’
‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth good Robin,
‘Till thou haue told me thine.’

34 ‘I dwell by dale and downe,’ quoth Guye,
‘And I haue done many a curst turne;
And he that calles me by my right name
Calles me Guye of good Gysborne.’

35 ‘My dwelling is in the wood,’ sayes Robin;
‘By thee I set right nought;
My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale,
A fellow thou has long sought.’

36 He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin
Might haue seene a full fayre sight,
To see how together these yeomen went,
With blades both browne and bright.

37 To haue seene how these yeomen together foug[ht],
Two howers of a summers day;
Itt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood
That fettled them to flye away.

38 Robin was reacheles on a roote,
And stumbled at that tyde,
And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,
And hitt him ore the left side.

39 ‘Ah, deere Lady!’ sayd Robin Hoode,
‘Thou art both mother and may!
I thinke it was neuer mans destinye
To dye before his day.’

40 Robin thought on Our Lady deere,
And soone leapt vp againe,
And thus he came with an awkwarde stroke;
Good Sir Guy hee has slayne.

41 He tooke Sir Guys head by the hayre,
And sticked itt on his bowes end;
‘Thou hast beene traytor all thy liffe,
Which thing must haue an ende.’

42 Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,
And nicked Sir Guy in the face,
That hee was neuer on a woman borne
Cold tell who Sir Guy was.

43 Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye,
And with me be not wrothe;
If thou haue had the worse stroakes at my hand,
Thou shalt haue the better cloathe.

44 Robin did off his gowne of greene,
Sir Guye hee did it throwe;
And hee put on that capull-hyde,
That cladd him topp to toe.

45 ‘The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne,
And with me now I’le beare;
Ffor now I will goe to Barn[e]sdale,
To see how my men doe fare.’

46 Robin sett Guyes horne to his mouth,
A lowd blast in it he did blow;
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned vnder a lowe.

47 ‘Hearken! hearken!’ sayd the sheriffe,
‘I heard noe tydings but good;
For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blowe,
For he hath slaine Robin Hoode.

48 ‘For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blow,
Itt blowes soe well in tyde,
For yonder comes that wighty yeoman,
Cladd in his capull-hyde.

49 ‘Come hither, thou good Sir Guy,
Aske of mee what thou wilt haue:’
‘I’le none of thy gold,’ sayes Robin Hood,
‘Nor I’le none of itt haue.

50 ‘But now I haue slaine the master,’ he sayd,
‘Let me goe strike the knaue;
This is all the reward I aske,
Nor noe other will I haue.’

51 ‘Thou art a madman,’ said the shiriffe,
‘Thou sholdest haue had a knights fee;
Seeing thy asking [hath] beene soe badd,
Well granted it shall be.’

52 But Litle Iohn heard his master speake,
Well he knew that was his steuen;
‘Now shall I be loset,’ quoth Litle Iohn,
‘With Christs might in heauen.’

53 Robin hee hyed him towards Litle Iohn,
Hee thought hee wold loose him beliue;
The sheriffe and all his companye
Fast after him did driue.

54 ‘Stand abacke! stand abacke!’ sayd Robin;
‘Why draw you mee soe neere?
Itt was neuer the vse in our countrye
One’s shrift another shold heere.’

55 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe,
And losed Iohn hand and foote,
And gaue him Sir Guyes bow in his hand,
And bade it be his boote.

56 But Iohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand-+--+-
His arrowes were rawstye by the roote-+--+-;
The sherriffe saw Litle Iohn draw a bow
And fettle him to shoote.

57 Towards his house in Nottingam
He fled full fast away,
And soe did all his companye,
Not one behind did stay.

58 But he cold neither soe fast goe,
Nor away soe fast runn,
But Litle Iohn, with an arrow broade,
Did cleaue his heart in twinn.

119. Robin Hood and the Monk

1 IN somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song:

2 To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the lev s grene,
Vnder the grene-wode tre.

3 Hit befel on Whitsontide,
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son vp feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.

4 ‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John,
‘Be hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man then I am one
Lyves not in Cristiant .

5 ‘Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster,’
Litull John can sey,
‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.’

6 ‘Y+Oe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn,
‘And does my hert mych woo;
RRthat I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.

7 ‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he,
‘Syn I my sauyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn,
‘With the myght of mylde Marye.’

8 Than spake Moche, the mylner sun,
Euer more wel hym betyde!
‘Take twelue of thi wyght y+oemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon,
RRthat twelue dar not abyde.’

9 ‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn,
‘Be my feith I wil non haue,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.’

10 ‘RRthou shall beyre thin own,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Vnder the grene-wode lyne.’

11 ‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode,
‘In feith, Litull John, with the,
But euer for on as thou shetis,’ seide Robyn,
‘In feith I holde the thre.’

12 Thus shet thei forth, these y+oemen too,
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til Litull John wan of his maister
Fiue shillings to hose and shone.

13 A ferly strife fel them betwene,
As they went bi the wey;
Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.

14 With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon,
And smote hym with his hande;
Litul Jon waxed wroth therwith,
And pulled out his bright bronde.

15 ‘Were thou not my maister,’ seid Litull John,
‘RRthou shuldis by hit ful sore;
Get the a man wher thou w[ilt],
For thou getis me no more.’

16 THen Robyn goes to Notyngham,
Hym selfe mornyng allone,
And Litull John to mery Scherwode,
The pathes he knew ilkone.

17 Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
Sertenly withouten layn,
He prayed to God and myld Mary
To bryng hym out saue agayn.

18 He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,
And kneled down before the rode;
Alle that euer were the church within
Beheld wel Robyn Hode.

19 Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke,
I pray to God woo he be!
Fful sone he knew gode Robyn,
As sone as he hym se.

20 Out at the durre he ran,
Fful sone and anon;
Alle the y+oatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred euerychon.

21 ‘Rise vp,’ he seid, ’thou prowde schereff,
Buske the and make the bowne;
I haue spyed the kynggis felon,
Ffor sothe he is in this town.

22 ‘I haue spyed the false felon,
As he stondis at his masse;
Hit is long of the,’ seide the munke,
‘And euer he fro vs passe.

23 ‘RRthis traytur name is Robyn Hode,
Vnder the grene-wode lynde;
He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,
Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.’

24 Vp then rose this prowde shereff,
And radly made hym y+oare;
Many was the moder son
To the kyrk with hym can fare.

25 In at the durres thei throly thrast,
With staves ful gode wone;
‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Now mysse I Litull John.’

26 But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde,
RRthat hangit down be his kne;
RRther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust,
Thedurwarde wolde he.

27 Thryes thorowout them he ran then,
For sothe as I yow sey,
And woundyt mony a moder son,
And twelue he slew that day.

28 His sworde vpon the schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too;
‘THe smyth that the made,’ seid Robyn,
‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!

29 ‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn,
‘Alasse! agayn my wylle;
But if I may fle these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kyll.’

30 Robyn in to the church ran,
Throout hem euerilkon,

31 Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,
And lay stil as any stone;
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only Litull Jon9

32 ‘Let be your rule,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Ffor his luf that dyed on tre,
Y+Oe that shulde be duy+oty men;
Het is gret shame to se.

33 ‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode
And y+oet scapyd away;
Pluk vp your hertis, and leve this mone,
And harkyn what I shal say.

34 ‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day,
And y+oet wil, securly;
RRtherfor I trust in hir specialy
No wyckud deth shal he dye.

35 ‘RRtherfor be glad,’ seid Litul John,
‘And let this mournyng be;
And I shal be the munkis gyde,
With the myght of mylde Mary.

36 . . . .
‘We will go but we too;
And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John,
. . .

37 ‘Loke that y+oe kepe wel owre tristil-tre,
Vnder the levys smale,
And spare non of this venyson,
RRthat gose in thys vale.’

38 Fforthe then went these y+oemen too,
Litul John and Moche on fere,
And lokid on Moch emys hows,
THe hye way lay full nere.

39 Litul John stode at a wyndow in the mornyng,
And lokid forth at a stage;
He was war wher the munke came ridyng,
And with hym a litul page.

40 ‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch,
‘I can the tel tithyngus gode;
I se wher the munke cumys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.’

41 They went in to the way, these y+oemen bothe,
As curtes men and hende;
THei spyrred tithyngus at the munke,
As they hade bene his frende.

42 ‘Ffro whens come y+oe?’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray,
Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,]
Was takyn y+oisterday.

43 ‘He robbyt me and my felowes bothe
Of twenti marke in serten;
If that false owtlay be takyn,
Ffor sothe we wolde be fayn.’

44 ‘So did he me,’ seid the munke,
‘Of a hundred pound and more;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Y+Oe may thonke me therfore.’

45 ‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John,
‘And we wil when we may;
We wil go with you, with your leve,
And bryng yow on your way.

46 ‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I tell you in certen;
If thei wist y+oe rode this way,
In feith y+oe shulde be slayn.’

47 As thei went talking be the way,
The munke and Litull John,
John toke the munkis horse be the hede,
Fful sone and anon.

48 Johne toke the munkis horse be the hed,
Ffor sothe as I yow say;
So did Much the litull page,
Ffor he shulde not scape away.

49 Be the golett of the hode
John pulled the munke down;
John was nothyng of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crown.

50 Litull John was so[re] agrevyd,
And drew owt his swerde in hye;
This munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.

51 ‘He was my maister,’ seid Litull John,
‘RRthat thou hase browy+ot in bale;
Shalle thou neuer cum at our kyng,
Ffor to telle hym tale.’

52 John smote of the munkis hed,
No longer wolde he dwell;
So did Moch the litull page,
Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell.

53 RRther thei beryed hem bothe,
In nouther mosse nor lyng,
And Litull John and Much infere
Bare the letturs to oure kyng.

54 . . . .
He knelid down vpon his kne:
‘God y+oow saue, my lege lorde,
Ihesus yow saue and se!

55 ‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’
To speke John was full bolde;
He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,
The kyng did hit vnfold.

56 THe kyng red the letturs anon,
And seid, So mot I the,
RRther was neuer y+ooman in mery Inglond
I longut so sore to se.

57 ‘Wher is the munke that these shuld haue brouy+ot?’
Oure kyng can say:
‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘He dyed after the way.’

58 THe kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon
Twenti pound in sertan,
And made theim y+oemen of the crown,
And bade theim go agayn.

59 He gaf John the seel in hand,
The sheref for to bere,
To bryng Robyn hym to,
And no man do hym dere.

60 n toke his leve at oure kyng,
THe sothe as I yow say;
THe next way to Notyngham
To take, he y+oede the way.

61 Whan John came to Notyngham
The y+oatis were sparred ychon;
John callid vp the porter,
He answerid sone anon.

62 ‘What is the cause,’ seid Litul Jon,
‘RRthou sparris the y+oates so fast?’
‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid [the] porter,
‘In depe prison is cast.

63 ‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,
Ffor sothe as I yow say,
THei slew oure men vpon our wallis,
And sawten vs euery day.’

64 Litull John spyrred after the schereff,
And sone he hym fonde;
He oppyned the kyngus priue seell,
And gaf hym in his honde.

65 Whan the scheref saw the kyngus seell,
He did of his hode anon:
‘Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?’
He seid to Litull John.

66 ‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litul John,
‘Ffor sothe as I yow say,
He has made hym abot of Westmynster,
A lorde of that abbay.’

67 The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wyne of the best;
At nyy+ot thei went to her bedde,
And euery man to his rest.

68 When the scheref was on slepe,
Dronken of wyne and ale,
Litul John and Moch for sothe
Toke the way vnto the jale.

69 Litul John callid vp the jayler,
And bade hym rise anon;
He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn prison,
And out of hit was gon.

70 The porter rose anon sertan,
As sone as he herd John calle;
Litul John was redy with a swerd,
And bare hym to the walle.

71 ‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litul John,
‘And take the keyes in honde:’
He toke the way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym vnbonde.

72 He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,
His hed [ther]with for to kepe,
And ther as the walle was lowyst
Anon down can thei lepe.

73 Be that the cok began to crow,
The day began to spryng;
The scheref fond the jaylier ded,
The comyn bell made he ryng.

74 He made a crye thoroout al the tow[n],
Wheder he be y+ooman or knave,
RRthat cowthe bryng hym Robyn Hode,
His warison he shuld haue.

75 ‘Ffor I dar neuer,’ said the scheref,
‘Cum before oure kyng;
Ffor if I do, I wot serten
Ffor sothe he wil me heng.’

76 The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and stye,
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,
As liy+ot as lef on lynde.

77 Then bespake gode Litull John,
To Robyn Hode can he say,
I haue done the a gode turne for an euyll,
Quyte the whan thou may.

78 ‘I haue done the a gode turne,’ seid Litull John,
‘Ffor sothe as I yow say;
I haue brouy+ot the vnder grene-wode lyne;
Ffare wel, and haue gode day.’

79 ‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘So shall hit neuer be;
I make the maister,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Off alle my men and me.’

80 ‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘So shalle hit neuer be;
But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John,
‘No noder kepe I be.’

81 Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of prison,
Sertan withoutyn layn;
Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,
Ffor sothe they were full fayne.

82 They filled in wyne, and made hem glad,
Vnder the levys smale,
And y+oete pastes of venyson,
THat gode was with ale.

83 Than worde came to oure kyng
How Robyn Hode was gon,
And how the scheref of Notyngham
Durst neuer loke hym vpon.

84 Then bespake oure cumly kyng,
In an angur hye:
Litull John hase begyled the schereff,
In faith so hase he me.

85 Litul John has begyled vs bothe,
And that full wel I se;
Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shulde he be.

86 ‘I made hem y+oemen of the crowne,
And gaf hem fee with my hond;
I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure kyng,
‘Thorowout all mery Inglond.

87 ‘I gaf theym grith,’ then seid oure kyng;
‘I say, so mot I the,
Ffor sothe soch a y+oeman as he is on
In all Inglond ar not thre.

88 ‘He is trew to his maister,’ seid our kyng;
‘I sey, be swete Seynt John,
He louys better Robyn Hode
Then he dose vs ychon.

89 ‘Robyn Hode is euer bond to hym,
Bothe in strete and stalle;
Speke no more of the mater,’ seid oure kyng,
‘But John has begyled vs alle.’

90 Thus endys the talkyng of the munke
And Robyn Hode i-wysse;
God, that is euer a crowned kyng,
Bryng vs all to his blisse!

120. Robin Hood's Death

Version A

1 ‘I WILL neuer eate oor drinke,’ Robin Hood said,
‘Nor meate will doo me noe good,
Till I haue beene at merry Churchlees,
My vaines for to let blood.’

2 ‘That I reade not,’ said Will Scarllett,
‘Master, by the assente of me,
Without halfe a hundred of your best bowmen
You take to goe with yee.

3 ‘For there a good yeoman doth abide
Will be sure to quarrell with thee,
And if thou haue need of vs, master,
In faith we will not flee.’

4 ‘And thou be feard, thou William Scarlett,
Att home I read thee bee:’
‘And you be wrothe, my deare master,
You shall neuer heare more of mee.’

5 ‘For there shall noe man with me goe,
Nor man with mee ryde,
And Litle Iohn shall be my man,
And beare my benbow by my side.’

6 ‘You’st beare your bowe, master, your selfe,
And shoote for a peny with mee:’
‘To that I doe assent,’ Robin Hood sayd,
‘And soe, Iohn, lett it bee.’

7 They two bolde children shotten together,
All day theire selfe in ranke,
Vntill they came to blacke water,
And over it laid a planke.

8 Vpon it there kneeled an old woman,
Was banning Robin Hoode;
‘Why dost thou bann Robin Hoode?’ said Robin,
. . . .

9 . . . .
‘To giue to Robin Hoode;
Wee weepen for his deare body,
That this day must be lett bloode.’

10 ‘The dame prior is my aunts daughter,
And nie vnto my kinne;
I know shee wold me noe harme this day,
For all the world to winne.’

11 Forth then shotten these children two,
And they did neuer lin,
Vntill they came to merry Churchlees,
To merry Churchlee[s] with-in.

12 And when they came to merry Churchlees,
They knoced vpon a pin;
Vpp then rose dame prioresse,
And lett good Robin in.

13 Then Robin gaue to dame prioresse
Twenty pound in gold,
And bad her spend while that wold last,
And shee shold haue more when shee wold.

14 And downe then came dame prioresse,
Downe she came in that ilke,
With a pair off blood-irons in her hands,
Were wrapped all in silke.

15 ‘Sett a chaffing-dish to the fyer,’ said dame prioresse,
‘And stripp thou vp thy sleeue:’
I hold him but an vnwise man
That will noe warning leeve.

16 Shee laid the blood-irons to Robin Hoods vaine,
Alacke, the more pitye!
And pearct the vaine, and let out the bloode,
That full red was to see.

17 And first it bled, the thicke, thicke bloode,
And afterwards the thinne,
And well then wist good Robin Hoode
Treason there was within.

18 ‘What cheere my master?’ said Litle Iohn;
‘In faith, Iohn, litle goode;’
. . . .
. . . .

19 ‘I haue upon a gowne of greene,
Is cut short by my knee,
And in my hand a bright browne brand
That will well bite of thee.’

20 But forth then of a shot-windowe
Good Robin Hood he could glide;
Red Roger, with a grounden glaue,
Thrust him through the milke-white side.

21 But Robin was light and nimble of foote,
And thought to abate his pride,
Ffor betwixt his head and his shoulders
He made a wound full wide.

22 Says, Ly there, ly there, Red Roger,
The doggs they must thee eate;
‘For I may haue my houzle,’ he said,
‘For I may both goe and speake.

23 ‘Now giue me mood,’ Robin said to Litle Iohn,
‘Giue me mood with thy hand;
I trust to God in heauen soe hye
My houzle will me bestand.’

24 ‘Now giue me leaue, giue me leaue, master,’ he said,
‘For Christs loue giue leaue to me,
To set a fier within this hall,
And to burne vp all Churchlee.’

25 ‘That I reade not,’ said Robin Hoode then,
‘Litle Iohn, for it may not be;
If I shold doe any widow hurt, at my latter end,
God,’ he said, ’wold blame me;

26 ‘But take me vpon thy backe, Litle Iohn,
And beare me to yonder streete,
And there make me a full fayre graue,
Of grauell and of greete.

27 ‘And sett my bright sword at my head,
Mine arrowes at my feete,
And lay my vew-bow by my side,
My met-yard wi . .

Version B

1 WHEN Robin Hood and Little John
Down a down a down a down
Went oer yon bank of broom,
Said Robin Hood bold to Little John,
We have shot for many a pound.
Hey, etc.

2 But I am not able to shoot one shot more,
My broad arrows will not flee;
But I have a cousin lives down below,
Please God, she will bleed me.

3 Now Robin he is to fair Kirkly gone,
As fast as he can win;
But before he came there, as we do hear,
He was taken very ill.

4 And when he came to fair Kirkly-hall,
He knockd all at the ring,
But none was so ready as his cousin herself
For to let bold Robin in.

5 ‘Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin,’ she said,
‘And drink some beer with me?’
‘No, I will neither eat nor drink,
Till I am blooded by thee.’

6 ‘Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,’ she said,
‘Which you did never see,
And if you please to walk therein,
You blooded by me shall be.’

7 She took him by the lily-white hand,
And led him to a private room,
And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,
While one drop of blood would run down.

8 She blooded him in a vein of the arm,
And locked him up in the room;
Then did he bleed all the live-long day,
Until the next day at noon.

9 He then bethought him of a casement there,
Thinking for to get down;
But was so weak he could not leap,
He could not get him down.

10 He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,
Which hung low down to his knee;
He set his horn unto his mouth,
And blew out weak blasts three.

11 Then Little John, when hearing him,
As he sat under a tree,
‘I fear my master is now near dead,
He blows so wearily.’

12 Then Little John to fair Kirkly is gone,
As fast as he can dree;
But when he came to Kirkly-hall,
He broke locks two or three:

13 Until he came bold Robin to see,
Then he fell on his knee;
‘A boon, a boon,’ cries Little John,
‘Master, I beg of thee.’

14 ‘What is that boon,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Little John, [thou] begs of me?’
‘It is to burn fair Kirkly-hall,
And all their nonnery.’

15 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘That boon I’ll not grant thee;
I never hurt woman in all my life,
Nor men in woman’s company.

16 ‘I never hurt fair maid in all my time,
Nor at mine end shall it be;
But give me my bent bow in my hand,
And a broad arrow I’ll let flee;
And where this arrow is taken up,
There shall my grave digged be.

17 ‘Lay me a green sod under my head,
And another at my feet;
And lay my bent bow by my side,
Which was my music sweet;
And make my grave of gravel and green,
Which is most right and meet.

18 ‘Let me have length and breadth enough,
With a green sod under my head;
That they may say, when I am dead
Here lies bold Robin Hood.’

19 These words they readily granted him,
Which did bold Robin please:
And there they buried bold Robin Hood,
Within the fair Kirkleys.

121. Robin Hood and the Potter

1 IN schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschoms on euery bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.

2 Herkens, god yemen,
Comley, corteys, and god,
On of the best that yeuer bare bowe,
Hes name was Roben Hode.

3 Roben Hood was the yeman’s name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;
Ffor the loffe of owre ladey,
All wemen werschepyd he.

4 Bot as the god yeman stod on a day,
Among hes mery maney,
He was ware of a prowd potter,
Cam dryfyng owyr the ley.

5 ‘Yonder comet a prod potter,’ seyde Roben,
‘That long hayt hantyd this wey;
He was neuer so corteys a man
On peney of pawage to pay.’

6 ‘Y met hem bot at Went-breg,’ seyde Lytyll John,
‘And therefore yeffell mot he the!
Seche thre strokes he me gafe,
Yet by my seydys cleffe they.

7 ‘Y ley forty shillings,’ seyde Lytyll John,
‘To pay het thes same day,
Ther ys nat a man among hus all
A wed schall make hem ley.’

8 ‘Here ys forty shillings,’ seyde Roben,
‘More, and thow dar say,
RRthat y schall make that prowde potter,
A wed to me schall he ley.’

9 There thes money they leyde,
They toke het a yeman to kepe;
Roben beffore the potter he breyde,
A[nd] bad hem stond stell.

10 Handys apon hes hors he leyde,
And bad the potter stonde foll stell;
The potter schorteley to hem seyde,
Ffelow, what ys they well?

11 ‘All thes thre yer, and more, potter,’ he seyde,
‘Thow hast hantyd thes wey,
Yet were tow neuer so cortys a man
On peney of pauage to pay.’

12 ‘What ys they name,’ seyde the potter,
‘Ffor pauage thow aske of me?’
‘Roben Hod ys mey name,
A wed schall thow leffe me.’

13 ‘Wed well y non leffe,’ seyde the potter,
‘Nor pavag well y non pay;
Awey they honde fro mey hors!
Y well the tene eyls, be mey fay.’

14 The potter to hes cart he went,
He was not to seke;
A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent,
Beffore Roben he leppyd.

15 Roben howt with a swerd bent,
A bokeler en hes honde;
The potter to Roben he went,
And seyde, Ffelow, let mey hors go.

16 Togeder then went thes to yemen,
Het was a god seyt to se;
Thereof low Robyn hes men,
There they stod onder a tre.

17 Leytell John to hes felowhe[s] seyde,
‘Yend potter well steffeley stonde:’
The potter, with a acward stroke,
Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde.

18 A[nd] ar Roben meyt get het agen
Hes bokeler at hes fette,
The potter yn the neke hem toke,
To the gronde sone he yede.

19 t saw Roben hes men,
As thay stod onder a bow;
‘Let vs helpe owre master,’ seyde Lytell John,
‘Yonder potter,’ seyde he, ls well hem slo.’

20 Thes yemen went with a breyde,
To ther mast[er] they cam.
Leytell John to hes mast[er] seyde,
He haet the wager won?

21 ‘Schall y haffe yowre forty shillings,’ seyde Lytl John,
‘Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?’
‘Yeff they were a hundred,’ seyde Roben,
‘Y feythe, they ben all theyne.’

22 ‘Het ys fol leytell cortesey,’ seyde the potter,
‘As y haffe harde weyse men saye,
Yeffe a pore yeman com drywyng on the wey,
To let hem of hes gorney.’

23 ‘Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt,’ seyde Roben,
‘Thow seys god yeme[n]rey;
And thow dreyffe forthe yeuery day,
Thow schalt neuer be let for me.

24 ‘Y well prey the, god potter,
A felischepe well thow haffe?
Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne;
Y well go to Notynggam.’

25 ‘Y gra[n]t thereto,’ seyde the potter,
‘Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode;
Bot thow can sell mey pottys well,
Com ayen as thow yode.’

26 ‘Nay, be mey trowt,’ seyde Roben,
‘And then y bescro mey hede,
Yeffe y bryng eny pottys ayen,
And eney weyffe well hem chepe.’

27 Than spake Leytell John,
And all hes felowhes heynd,
‘Master, be well ware of the screffe of Notynggam,
Ffor he ys leytell howr frende.’

28 ‘Heyt war howte!’ seyde Roben,
Ffelowhes, let me a lone;
Thorow the helpe of Howr Ladey,
To Notynggam well y gon.’

29 Robyn went to Notynggam,
Thes pottys for to sell;
The potter abode with Robens men,
There he fered not eylle.

30 Tho Roben droffe on hes wey,
So merey ower the londe:
Her es more, and affter ys to saye,
The best ys beheynde.

31 When Roben cam to Notynggam,
The soyt yef y scholde saye,
He set op hes hors anon,
And gaffe hem hotys and haye.

32 Yn the medys of the towne,
There he schowed hes ware;
‘Pottys! pottys!’ he gan crey foll sone,
‘Haffe hansell for the mare!’

33 Ffoll effen agenest the screffeys gate
Schowed he hes chaffare;
Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow,
And chepyd fast of hes ware.

34 Yet, ‘Pottys, gret chepe!’ creyed Robyn,
‘Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;’
And all that say hem sell
Seyde he had be no potter long.

35 The pottys that were werthe pens feyffe,
He solde tham for pens thre;
Preveley seyde man and weyffe,
‘Ywnder potter schall neuer the.’

36 Thos Roben solde foll fast,
Tell he had pottys bot feyffe;
Op he hem toke of hes care,
And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe.

37 Thereof sche was foll fayne,
‘Gereamarsey, SER,’ than seyde sche;
‘When ye com to thes contre ayen,
Y schall bey of the[y] pottys, so mot y the.’

38 ‘Ye schall haffe of the best,’ seyde Roben,
And sware be the Treneyt ;
Ffoll corteysley [sc]he gan hem call,
‘Com deyne with the screfe and me.’

39 ‘God amarsey,’ seyde Roben,
‘Yowre bedyng schall be doyn;’
A mayden yn the pottys gan bere,
Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon.

40 Whan Roben yn to the hall cam,
The screff sone he met;
The potter cowed of corteysey,
And sone the screffe he gret.

41 ‘Lo, ser, what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me;
Ffeyffe pottys smalle and grete!’
‘He ys foll wellcom,’ seyd the screffe;
‘Let os was, and go to mete.’

42 As they sat at her methe,
With a nobell chere,
To of the screffes men gan speke
Off a gret wager;

43 Off a schotyng, was god and feyne,
Was made the thother daye,
Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye,
Who scholde thes wager wen.

44 Styll than sat thes prowde potter,
Thos than thowt he;
As y am a trow cerstyn man,
Thes schotyng well y se.

45 Whan they had fared of the best,
With bred and ale and weyne,
To the bottys the made them prest,
With bowes and boltys foll feyne.

46 The screffes men schot foll fast,
As archares that weren godde;
There cam non ner ney the marke
Bey halffe a god archares bowe.

47 Stell then stod the prowde potter,
Thos than seyde he;
And y had a bow, be the rode,
On schot scholde yow se.

48 ‘Thow schall haffe a bow,’ seyde the screffe,
‘The best that thow well cheys of thre;
Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge,
Asay schall thow be.’

49 The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey
Affter bowhes to weynde;
The best bow that the yeman browthe
Roben set on a stryng.

50 ‘Now schall y wet and thow be god,
And polle het op to they nere;’
‘So god me helpe,’ seyde the prowde potter,
‘THys ys bot rygy+ot weke gere.’

51 To a quequer Roben went,
A god bolt owthe he toke;
So ney on to the marke he went,
He fayled not a fothe.

52 All they schot abowthe agen,
The screffes men and he;
Off the marke he welde not fayle,
He cleffed the preke on thre.

53 The screffes men thowt gret schame
The potter the mastry wan;
The screff lowe and made god game,
And seyde, Potter, thow art a man.

54 . . . .
. . . .
Thow art worthey to bere a bowe
Yn what plas that thow goe.

55 ‘Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,
Ffor soyt,’ he seyde, a+end that a godde;
Yn mey cart ys the bow
That gaffe me Robyn Hode.’

56 ‘Knowest thow Robyn Hode?’ seyde the screffe,
‘Potter, y prey the tell thow me;’
‘A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem,
Vnder hes tortyll-tre.’

57 ‘Y had leuer nar a hundred ponde,’ seyde the screffe,
‘And sware be the Trenit ,
. . . .
RRthat the fals outelawe stod be me.’

58 ‘And ye well do afftyr mey red,’ seyde the potter,
‘And boldeley go with me,
And to morow, or we het bred,
Roben Hode well we se.’

59 ‘Y wel queyt the,’ kod the screffe,
‘Y swere be God of meythe;’
Schetyng thay left, and hom they went,
Her soper was reddy deythe.

60 Vpon the morow, when het was day,
He boskyd hem forthe to reyde;
The potter hes cart forthe gan ray,
And wolde not leffe beheynde.

61 He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe,
And thankyd her of all thyng:
‘Dam, for mey loffe and ye well thys were,
Y geffe yow here a golde ryng.’

62 ‘Gramarsey,’ seyde the weyffe,
‘Ser, god eylde het the;
The screffes hart was neuer so leythe,
The feyre foreyst to se.

63 And when he cam yn to the foreyst,
Yonder the leffes grene,
Berdys there sange on bowhes prest,
Het was gret goy to se.

64 ‘Here het ys merey to be,’ seyde Roben,
‘Ffor a man that had hawt to spende;
Be mey horne I schall awet
Yeff Roben Hode be here.’

65 Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe,
And blow a blast that was foll god;
RRthat herde hes men that there stode,
Ffer downe yn the wodde.

66 ‘I her mey master blow,’ seyde Leytell John,
. . . .
. . . .
They ran as thay were wode.

67 Whan thay to thar master cam,
Leytell John wold not spare;
‘Master, how haffe yow fare yn Notynggam?
How haffe yow solde yowre ware?’

68 ‘Ye, be mey trowthe, Leyty[ll] John,
Loke thow take no care;
Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,
Ffor all howre chaffare.’

69 ‘He ys foll wellcom,’ seyde Lytyll John,
‘Thes tydyng ys foll godde;
The screffe had leuer nar a hundred ponde
He had [neuer sene Roben Hode.]

70 ‘[Had I] west that befforen,
At Notynggam when we were,
Thow scholde not com yn feyre forest
Of all thes thowsande eyre.’

71 ‘That wot y well,’ seyde Roben,
‘Y thanke God that ye be here;
Thereffore schall ye leffe yowre hors with hos,
And all yowre hother gere.’

72 ‘That fend I Godys forbod,’ kod the screffe,
‘So to lese mey godde;
. . . .
. . .

73 ‘Hether ye cam on hors foll hey,
And hom schall ye go on fote;
And gret well they weyffe at home,
The woman ys foll godde.

74 schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het ambellet be mey fey,
. . . .
. . .

75 schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het hambellet as the weynde;
Nere for the loffe of yowre weyffe,
Off more sorow scholde yow seyng.’

76 s parted Robyn Hode and the screffe;
To Nptynggam he toke the waye;
Hes weyffe feyre welcomed hem hom,
And to hem gan sche saye:

77 Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst?
Haffe ye browt Roben hom?
‘Dam, the deyell spede hem, bothe bodey and bon;
Y haffe hade a foll gret skorne.

78 ‘Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod,
He hayt take het fro me;
All bot thes feyre palffrey,
That he hayt sende to the.’

79 With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng,
And swhare be hem that deyed on tre,
‘Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys
That Roben gaffe to me.

80 ‘Noe ye be com hom to Notynggam,
Ye schall haffe god ynowe;’
Now speke we of Roben Hode,
And of the pottyr ondyr the grene bowhe.

81 ‘Potter, what was they pottys worthe
To Notynggam that y ledde with me?’
‘They wer worthe to nobellys,’ seyde he,
‘So mot y treyffe or the;
So cowde y [haffe] had for tham,
And y had there be.’

82 ‘Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,’ seyde Roben,
‘Of money feyre and fre;
And yeuer whan thow comest to grene wod,
Wellcom, potter, to me.’

83 Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter,
Ondernethe the grene-wod tre;
God haffe mersey on Roben Hodys solle,
And saffe all god yemanrey!

122. Robin Hood and the Butcher

Version A

1 BUT Robin he walkes in the g[reene] forrest,
As merry as bird on boughe,
But he that feitches good Robins head,
Hee’le find him game enoughe.

2 But Robine he walkes in the greene forrest,
Vnder his trusty-tree;
Sayes, Hearken, hearken, my merrymen all,
What tydings is come to me.

3 The sheriffe he hath made a cry,
Hee’le have my head i-wis;
But ere a tweluemonth come to an end
I may chance to light on his.

4 Robin he marcht in the greene forrest,
Vnder the greenwood scray,
And there he was ware of a proud bucher,
Came driuing flesh by the way.

5 The bucher he had a cut-taild dogg,
And at Robins face he flew;
But Robin he was a good sword,
The bucher’s dogg he slew.

6 ‘Why slayes thou my dogg?’ sayes the bucher,
‘For he did none ill to thee;
By all the saints that are in heaven
Thou shalt haue buffetts three.’

7 He tooke his staffe then in his hand,
And he turnd him round about:
‘Thou hast a litle wild blood in thy head,
Good fellow, thou’st haue it letten out.’

8 ‘He that does that deed,’ sayes Robin,
‘I’le count him for a man;
But that while will I draw my sword,
And fend it if I can.’

9 But Robin he stroke att the bloudy bucher,
In place were he did stand,

10 ‘I [am] a younge bucher,’ sayes Robin,
‘You fine dames am I come amonge;
But euer I beseech you, good Mrs Sheriffe,
You must see me take noe wronge.’

11 ‘Thou art verry welcome,’ said Master Sherriff’s wiffe,
‘Thy inne heere up [to] take;
If any good fellow come in thy companie,
Hee’st be welcome for thy sake.’

12 Robin called for ale, soe did he for wine,
And for it he did pay:
‘I must to my markett goe,’ says Robin,
‘For I hold time itt of the day.’

13 But Robin is to the markett gone,
Soe quickly and beliue,
He sold more flesh for one peny
Then othe[r] buchers did for fiue.

14 The drew about the younge bucher,
Like sheepe into a fold;
Yea neuer a bucher had sold a bitt
Till Robin he had all sold.

15 When Robin Hood had his markett made,
His flesh was sold and gone;
Yea he had receiued but a litle mony,
But thirty pence and one.

16 Seaven buchers, the garded Robin Hood,
Ffull many time and oft;
Sayes, We must drinke with you, brother bucher,
It’s custome of our crafte.

17 ‘If that be the custome of your crafte,
As heere you tell to me.
Att four of the clocke in the afternoone
At the sheriffs hall I wilbe.’

18 . . . .
‘If thou doe like it well;
Yea heere is more by three hundred pound
Then thou hast beasts to sell.’

19 Robyn sayd naught, the more he thought:
‘Mony neere comes out of time;
If once I catch thee in the greene forest,
That mony it shall be mine.’

20 But on the next day seuen butchurs
Came to guard the sheriffe that day;
But Robin he was the whigh[t]est man,
He led them all the way.

21 He led them into the greene forest,
Vnder the trusty tree;
Yea, there were harts, and ther were hynds,
and staggs with heads full high.

22 Yea, there were harts and there were hynds,
And many a goodly fawne;
‘Now praised be God,’ says bold Robin,
‘All these they be my owne.

23 ‘These are my horned beasts,’ says Robin,
‘Master Sherriffe, which must make the stake;’
‘But euer alacke, now,’ said the sheriffe,
‘That tydings comes to late!’

24 Robin sett a shrill horne to his mouth,
And a loud blast he did blow,
And then halfe a hundred bold archers
Came rakeing on a row.

25 But when the came befor bold Robin,
Even there the stood all bare:
‘You are welcome, master, from Nottingham:
How haue you sold your ware?’

26 . . . .
. . . .
. . . .
It proues bold Robin Hood.

27 ‘Yea, he hath robbed me of all my gold
And siluer that euer I had;
But that I had a verry good wife at home,
I shold haue lost my head.

28 ‘But I had a verry good wife at home,
Which made him gentle cheere,
And therfor, for my wifes sake,
I shold haue better favor heere.

29 ‘But such favor as he shewed me
I might haue of the devills dam,
That will rob a man of all he hath,
And send him naked home.’

30 ‘That is very well done,’ then dsays his wiffe,
‘Itt is well done, I say;
You might haue tarryed att Nottingham,
Soe fayre as I did you pray.’

31 ‘I haue learned wisdome,’ sayes the sherriffe,
‘And, wife, I haue learned of thee;
But if Robin walke easte, or he walke west,
He shall neuer be sought for me.’

Version B

1 COME, all you brave gallants, and listen a while,
With hey down, down, an a down
That are in the bowers within;
For of Robin Hood, that archer good,
A song I intend for to sing.

2 Upon a time it chanc d so
Bold Robin in forrest did spy
A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare,
With his flesh to the market did hye.

3 ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin,
‘What food hast? tell unto me;
And thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell,
For I like well thy company.’

4 The butcher he answered jolly Robin:
No matter where I dwell;
For a butcher I am, and to Notingham
I am going, my flesh to sell.

5 ‘What is [the] price of thy flesh?’ said jolly Robin,
‘Come, tell it soon unto me;
And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear,
For a butcher fain would I be.’

6 ‘The price of my flesh,’ the butcher repli’d,
‘I soon will tell unto thee;
With my bonny mare, and they are not dear,
Four mark thou must give unto me.’

7 ‘Four mark I will give thee,’ saith jolly Robin,
‘Four mark it shall be thy fee;
Thy mony come count, and let me mount,
For a butcher I fain would be.’

8 Now Robin is to Notingham gone,
His butcher’s trade for to begin;
With good intent, to the sheriff he went,
And there he took up his inn.

9 When other butchers they opened their meat,
Bold Robin he then begun;
But how for to sell he knew not well,
For a butcher he was but young.

10 When other butchers no meat could sell,
Robin got both gold and fee;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Than others could do for three.

11 But when he sold his meat so fast,
No butcher by him could thrive;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Than others could do for five.

12 Which made the butchers of Notingham
To study as they did stand,
Saying, surely he was some prodigal,
That had sold his father’s land.

13 The butchers they stepped to jolly Robin,
Acquainted with him for to be;
‘Come, brother,’ one said, ’we be all of one trade,
Come, will you go dine with me?’

14 ‘Accurst of his heart,’ said jolly Robin,
‘That a butcher doth deny;
I will go with you, my brethren true,
And as fast as I can hie.’

15 But when to the sheriff’s house they came,
To dinner they hied apace,
And Robin he the man must be
Before them all to say grace.

16 ‘Pray God bless us all,’ said jolly Robin,
‘And our meat within this place;
A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood,
And so do I end my grace.

17 ‘Come fill us more wine,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Let us merry be while we do stay;
For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear,
I vow I the reckning will pay.

18 ‘Come, brother[s], be merry,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Let us drink, and never give ore;
For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way,
If it cost me five pounds and more.’

19 ‘This is a mad blade,’ the butchers then said;
Saies the sheriff, He is some prodigal,
That some land has sold, for silver and gold,
And now he doth mean to spend all.

20 ‘Hast thou any horn-beasts,’ the sheriff repli’d,
‘Good fellow, to sell unto me?’
‘Yes, that I have, good Master Sheriff,
I have hundreds two or three.

21 ‘And a hundred aker of good free land,
If you please it to see;
And I’le make you as good assurance of it
As ever my father made me.’

22 The sheriff he saddled a good palfrey,
With three hundred pound in gold,
And away he went with bold Robin Hood,
His horned beasts to behold.

23 Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride,
To the forrest of merry Sherwood;
Then the sheriff did say, God bless us this day
From a man they call Robin Hood!

24 But when that a little further they came,
Bold Robin he chanc d to spy
A hundred head of good red deer,
Come tripping the sheriff full nigh.

25 ‘How like you my hornd beasts, good Master Sheriff;
They be fat and fair for to see;’
‘I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone,
For I like not thy company.’

26 Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth,
And blew but blasts three;
Then quickly anon there came Little John,
And all his company.

27 ‘What is your will?’ then said Little John,
‘Good master come tell it to me;’
‘I have brought hither the sheriff of Notingham,
This day to dine with thee.’

28 ‘He is welcome to me,’ then said Little John,
‘I hope he will honestly pay;
I know he has gold, if it be but well told,
Will serve us to drink a whole day.’

29 Then Robin took his mantle from his back,
And laid it upon the ground,
And out of the sheriffe[’s] portmantle
He told three hundred pound.

30 Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood,
And set him on his dapple gray:
‘O have me commended to your wife at home;’
So Robin went laughing away.

123. Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

Version A

1 BUT how many merry monthes be in the yeere?
There are thirteen, I say;
The midsummer moone is the merryest of all,
Next to the merry month of May.

2 In May, when mayds beene fast weepand,
Young men their hands done wringe,

3 ‘I’le . pe . . .
Over may noe man for villanie:’
‘I’le never eate nor drinke,’ Robin Hood sa[id],
‘Till I that cutted friar see.’

4 He builded his men in a brake of fearne,
A litle from that nunery;
Sayes, If you heare my litle horne blow,
Then looke you come to me.

5 When Robin came to Fontaines Abey,
Wheras that fryer lay,
He was ware of the fryer where he stood,
And to him thus can he say.

6 A payre of blacke breeches the yeoman had on,
His coppe all shone of steele,
A fayre sword and a broad buckeler
Beseemed him very weell.

7 ‘I am a wet weary man,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Good fellow, as thou may see;
Wilt beare [me] over this wild water,
Ffor sweete Saint Charity?’

8 The fryer bethought him of a good deed;
He had done none of long before;
He hent up Robin Hood on his backe,
And over he did him beare.

9 But when he came over that wild water,
A longe sword there he drew:
‘Beare me backe againe, bold outlawe,
Or of this thou shalt have enoughe.’

10 Then Robin Hood hent the fryar on his back,
And neither sayd good nor ill;
Till he came ore that wild water,
The yeoman he walked still.

11 Then Robin Hood wett his fayre greene hoze,
A span aboue his knee;
S[ay]s, Beare me ore againe, thou cutted f[ryer]

12 . . . .
. . . .
. . . good bowmen
[C]ame raking all on a rowe.

13 ‘I beshrew thy head,’ said the cutted friar,
‘Thou thinkes I shall be shente;
I thought thou had but a man or two,
And thou hast [a] whole conuent.

14 ‘I lett thee haue a blast on thy horne,
Now giue me leaue to whistle another;
I cold not bidd thee noe better play
And thou wert my owne borne brother.’

15 ‘Now fute on, fute on, thou cutted fryar,
I pray God thou neere be still;
It is not the futing in a fryers fist
That can doe me any ill.’

16 The fryar sett his neave to his mouth,
A loud blast he did blow;
Then halfe a hundred good bandoggs
Came raking all on a rowe.

17 . . . .
. . . .
‘Euery dogg to a man,’ said the cutted fryar,
‘And I my selfe to Robin Hood.’

18 ‘Over God’s forbott,’ said Robin Hood,
‘That euer that soe shold bee;
I had rather be mached with three of the tikes
Ere I wold be matched on thee.

19 ‘But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,’ he said,
‘And freindshipp I’le haue with thee;
But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,’ he said,
‘And saue good yeomanry.’

20 The fryar he sett his neave to his mouth,
A lowd blast he did blow;
The doggs the coucht downe eiery one,
They couched downe on a rowe.

21 ‘What is thy will, thou yeoman?’ he said,
‘Haue done and tell it me;’
‘If that thou will goe to merry greenwood,

Version B

1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green,
And flowers are fresh and gay,
Robin Hood and his merry men
Were disposed to play.

2 Then some would leap, and some would run,
And some would use artillery:
‘Which of you can a good bow draw,
A good archer to be?

3 ‘Which of you can kill a buck?
Or who can kill a do?
Or who can kill a hart of greece,
Five hundred foot him fro?’

4 Will Scadlock he killd a buck,
And midge he killd a do,
And Little John killd a hart of greece,
Five hundred foot him fro.

5 ‘God’s blessing on thy heart,’ said Robin Hood,
‘That hath [shot] such a shot for me;
I would ride my horse an hundred miles,
To finde one could match with thee.’

6 That causd Will Scadlock to laugh,
He laughed full heartily:
‘There lives a curtal frier in Fountains Abby
Will beat both him and thee.

7 ‘That curtal frier in Fountains Abby
Well can a strong bow draw;
He will beat you and your yeomen,
Set them all on a row.’

8 Robin Hood took a solemn oath,
It was by Mary free,
That he would neither eat nor drink
Till the frier he did see.

9 Robin Hood put on his harness good,
And on his head a cap of steel,
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him weel.

10 He took his bow into his hand,
It was made of a trusty tree,
With a sheaf of arrows at his belt,
To the Fountains Dale went he.

11 And comming unto Fountain[s] Dale,
No further would he ride;
There was he aware of a curtal frier,
Walking by the water-side.

12 The fryer had on a harniss good,
And on his head a cap of steel,
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him weel.

13 Robin Hood lighted off his horse,
And tied him to a thorn:
‘Carry me over the water, thou curtal frier,
Or else thy life’s forlorn.’

14 The frier took Robin Hood on his back,
Deep water he did bestride,
And spake neither good word nor bad,
Till he came at the other side.

15 Lightly leapt Robin Hood off the friers back;
The frier said to him again,
Carry me over this water, fine fellow,
Or it shall breed thy pain.

16 Robin Hood took the frier on’s back,
Deep water he did bestride,
And spake neither good word nor bad,
Till he came at the other side.

17 Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods back;
Robin Hood said to him again,
Carry me over this water, thou curtal frier,
Or it shall breed thy pain.

18 The frier took Robin Hood on’s back again,
And stept up to the knee;
Till he came at the middle stream,
Neither good nor bad spake he.

19 And coming to the middle stream,
There he threw Robin in:
‘And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow,
Whether thou wilt sink or swim.’

20 Robin Hood swam to a bush of broom,
The frier to a wicker wand;
Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore,
And took his bow in hand.

21 One of his best arrows under his belt
To the frier he let flye;
The curtal frier, with his steel buckler,
He put that arrow by.

22 ‘Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow,
Shoot on as thou hast begun;
If thou shoot here a summers day,
Thy mark I will not shun.’

23 Robin Hood shot passing well,
Till his arrows all were gone;
They took their swords and steel bucklers,
And fought with might and maine;

24 From ten oth’ clock that day,
Till four ith’ afternoon;
Then Robin Hood came to his knees,
Of the frier to beg a boon.

25 ‘A boon, a boon, thou curtal frier,
I beg it on my knee;
Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth,
And to blow blasts three.’

26 ‘That will I do,’ said the curtal frier,
‘Of thy blasts I have no doubt;
I hope thou’lt blow so passing well
Till both thy eyes fall out.’

27 Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth,
He blew but blasts three;
Half a hundred yeomen, with bows bent,
Came raking over the lee.

28 ‘Whose men are these,’ said the frier,
‘That come so hastily?’
‘These men are mine,’ said Robin Hood;
‘Frier, what is that to thee?’

29 ‘A boon, a boon,’ said the curtal frier,
‘The like I gave to thee;
Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth,
And to whute whutes three.’

30 ‘That will I do,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Or else I were to blame;
Three whutes in a friers fist
Would make me glad and fain.’

31 The frier he set his fist to his mouth,
And whuted whutes three;
Half a hundred good ban-dogs
Came running the frier unto.

32 ‘Here’s for every man of thine a dog,
And I my self for thee:’
‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘Frier, that may not be.’

33 Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did go,
The one behind, the other before;
Robin Hoods mantle of Lincoln green
Off from his back they tore.

34 And whether his men shot east or west,
Or they shot north or south,
The curtal dogs, so taught they were,
They kept their arrows in their mouth.

35 ‘Take up thy dogs,’ said Little John,
‘Frier, at my bidding be;’
‘Whose man art thou,’ said the curtal frier,
‘Comes here to prate with me?’

36 ‘I am Little John, Robin Hoods man,
Frier, I will not lie;
If thou take not up thy dogs soon,
I’le take up them and thee.’

37 Little John had a bow in his hand,
He shot with might and main;
Soon half a score of the friers dogs
Lay dead upon the plain.

38 ‘Hold thy hand, good fellow,’ said the curtal frier,
‘Thy master and I will agree;
And we will have new orders taken,
With all the haste that may be.’

39 ‘If thou wilt forsake fair Fountains Dale,
And Fountains Abby free,
Every Sunday throughout the year,
A noble shall be thy fee.

40 ‘And every holy day throughout the year,
Changed shall thy garment be,
If thou wilt go to fair Nottingham,
And there remain with me.’

41 This curtal frier had kept Fountains Dale
Seven long years or more;
There was neither knight, lord, nor earl
Could make him yield before.

124. The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield

Version A

1 IN Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,
In Wakefield, all on a green;
In Wakefield, all on a green;

2 ‘There is neither knight nor squire,’ said the pinder,
‘Nor baron that is so bold,
‘Nor baron that is so bold,
Dare make a trespasse to the town of Wakefield,
But his pledge goes to the pinfold.’
But his pledge goes to the pinfold.’

3 All this beheard three witty young men,
’Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John;
With that they spyed the jolly pinder,
As he sate under a thorn.

4 ‘Now turn again, turn again,’ said the pinder,
‘For a wrong way have you gone;
For you have forsaken the king his highway,
And made a path over the corn.’

5 ‘O that were great shame,’ said jolly Robin,
‘We being three, and thou but one:’
The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot,
’Twas thirty good foot and one.

6 He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,
And his foot unto a stone,
And there he fought a long summer’s day,
A summer’s day so long,
Till that their swords, on their broad bucklers,
Were broken fast unto their hands.

7 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And my merry men euery one;
For this is one of the best pinders
That ever I try’d with sword.

8 ‘And wilt thou forsake thy pinder his craft,
And live in [the] green wood with me?
. . . .
. . . .

9 ‘At Michaelmas next my covnant comes out,
When every man gathers his fee;
I’le take my blew blade all in my hand,
And plod to the green wood with thee.’

10 ‘Hast thou either meat or drink,’ said Robin Hood,
‘For my merry men and me?
. . . .
. . . .

11 ‘I have both bread and beef,’ said the pinder,
‘And good ale of the best;’
‘And that is meat good enough,’ said Robin Hood,
‘For such unbidden guest.

12 wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft,
And go to the green wood with me?
Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year,
The one green, the other brown [shall be].’

13 ‘If Michaelmas day were once come and gone
And my master had paid me my fee,
Then would I set as little by him
As my master doth set by me.’

Version B

124 * * *
‘BUT hold y . . hold y . . . ’ says Robin,
‘My merrymen, I bid yee,
For this [is] one of the best pindars
That euer I saw with mine eye.

2 ‘But hast thou any meat, thou iolly pindar,
For my merrymen and me?’
. . . .
. . . .

3 ‘But I haue bread and cheese,’ sayes the pindar,
‘And ale all on the best:’
‘That’s cheere good enoughe,’ said Robin,
‘For any such vnbidden guest.

4 ‘But wilt be my man?’ said good Robin,
‘And come and dwell with me?
And twise in a yeere thy clothing [shall] be changed
If my man thou wilt bee,
The tone shall be of light Lincolne greene,
The tother of Picklory.’

5 ‘Att Michallmas comes a well good time,
When men haue gotten in their fee;
I’le sett as litle by my master
As he now setts by me,
I’le take my benbowe in my hande,
And come into the grenwoode to thee.’

125. Robin Hood and Little John

1 WHEN Robin Hood was about twenty years old,
With a hey down down and a down
He happend to meet Little John,
A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade,
For he was a lusty young man.

2 Tho he was calld Little, his limbs they were large,
And his stature was seven foot high;
Where-ever he came, they quak’d at his name,
For soon he would make them to fly.

3 How they came acquainted, I’ll tell you in brief,
If you will but listen a while;
For this very jest, amongst all the rest,
I think it may cause you to smile.

4 Bold Robin Hood said to his jolly bowmen,
Pray tarry you here in this grove;
And see that you all observe well my call,
While thorough the forest I rove.

5 We have had no sport for these fourteen long days,
Therefore now abroad will I go;
Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat,
My horn I will presently blow.

6 Then did he shake hands with his merry men all,
And bid them at present good b’w’ye;
Then, as near a brook his journey he took,
A stranger he chancd to espy.

7 They happend to meet on a long narrow bridge,
And neither of them would give way;
Quoth bold Robin Hood, and sturdily stood,
I’ll show you right Nottingham play.

8 With that from his quiver an arrow he drew,
A broad arrow with a goose-wing:
The stranger reply’d, I’ll liquor thy hide,
If thou offerst to touch the string.

9 Quoth bold Robin Hood, Thou dost prate like an ass,
For were I to bend but my bow,
I could send a dart quite thro thy proud heart,
Before thou couldst strike me one blow.

10 ‘Thou talkst like a coward,’ the stranger reply’d;
‘Well armed with a long bow you stand,
To shoot at my breast, while I, I protest,
Have nought but a staff in my hand.’

11 ‘The name of a coward,’ quoth Robin, ‘I scorn,
Wherefore my long bow I’ll lay by;
And now, for thy sake, a staff will I take,
The truth of thy manhood to try.’

12 Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees,
And chose him a staff of ground-oak;
Now this being done, away he did run
To the stranger, and merrily spoke:

13 Lo! see my staff, it is lusty and tough,
Now here on the bridge we will play;
Whoever falls in, the other shall win
The battel, and so we’ll away.

14 ‘With all my whole heart,’ the stranger reply’d;
‘I scorn in the least to give out;’
This said, they fell to’t without more dispute,
And their staffs they did flourish about.

15 And first Robin he gave the stranger a bang,
So hard that it made his bones ring:
The stranger he said, This must be repaid,
I’ll give you as good as you bring.

16 So long as I’m able to handle my staff,
To die in your debt, friend, I scorn:
Then to it each goes, and followd their blows,
As if they had been threshing of corn.

17 The stranger gave Robin a crack on the crown,
Which caused the blood to appear;
Then Robin, enrag’d, more fiercely engag’d,
And followd his blows more severe.

18 So thick and so fast dic he lay it on him,
With a passionate fury and ire,
At every stroke, he made him to smoke,
As if he had been all on fire.

19 O then into fury the stranger he grew,
And gave him a damnable look,
And with it a blow that laid him full low,
And tumbld him into the brook.

20 ‘I prithee, good fellow, O where art thou now?’
The stranger, in laughter, he cry’d;
Quoth bold Robin Hood, Good faith, in the flood,
And floating along with the tide.

21 I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul;
With thee I’ll no longer contend;
For needs must I say, thou hast got the day,
Our battel shall be at an end.

22 Then unto the bank he did presently wade,
And pulld himself out by a thorn;
Which done, at the last, he blowd a loud blast
Straitway on his fine bugle-horn.

23 The eccho of which through the vallies did fly,
At which his stout bowmen appeard,
All cloathed in green, most gay to be seen;
So up to their master they steerd.

24 ‘O what’s the matter?’ quoth William Stutely;
‘Good master, you are wet to the skin:’
‘No matter,’ quoth he; ’The lad which you see,
In fighting, hath tumbld me in.’

25 ‘He shall not go scot-free,’ the others reply’d;
So strait they were seizing him there,
To duck him likewise; but Robin Hood cries,
He is a stout fellow, forbear.

26 There’s no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid;
These bowmen upon me do wait;
There’s threescore and nine; if thou wilt be mine,
Thou shalt have my livery strait.

27 And other accoutrements fit for a man;
Speak up, jolly blade, never fear;
I’ll teach you also the use of the bow,
To shoot at the fat fallow-deer.

28 ‘O here is my hand,’ the stranger reply’d,
‘I’ll serve you with all my whole heart;
My name is John Little, a man of good mettle;
Nere doubt me, for I’ll play my part.’

29 His name shall be alterd,’ quoth William Stutely,
‘And I will his godfather be;
Prepare then a feast, and none of the least,
For we will be merry,’ quoth he.

30 They presently fetchd in a brace of fat does,
With humming strong liquor likewise;
They lovd what was good; so, in the greenwood,
This pretty sweet babe they baptize.

31 He was, I must tell you, but seven foot high,
And, may be, an ell in the waste;
A pretty sweet lad; much feasting they had;
Bold Robin the christning grac’d.

32 With all his bowmen, which stood in a ring,
And were of the Notti[n]gham breed;
Brave Stutely comes then, with seven yeomen,
And did in this manner proceed.

33 ‘This infant was called John Little,’ quoth he,
‘Which name shall be changed anon;
The words we’ll transpose, so where-ever he goes,
His name shall be calld Little John.’

34 They all with a shout made the elements ring,
So soon as the office was ore;
To feasting they went, with true merriment,
And tippld strong liquor gillore.

35 Then Robin he took the pretty sweet babe,
And cloathd him from top to the toe
In garments of green, most gay to be seen,
And gave him a curious long bow.

36 ‘Thou shalt be an archer as well as the best,
And range in the greenwood with us;
Where we’ll not want gold nor silver, behold,
While bishops have ought in their purse.

37 ‘We live here like squires, or lords of renown,
Without ere a foot of free land;
We feast on good cheer, with wine, ale and beer,
And evry thing at our command.’

38 Then musick and dancing did finish the day;
At length, when the sun waxed low,
Then all the whole train the grove did refrain,
And unto their caves they did go.

39 And so ever after, as long as he livd,
Altho he was proper and tall,
Yet nevertheless, the truth to express,
Still Little John they did him call.

126. Robin Hood and the Tanner

1 IN Nottingham there lives a jolly tanner,
With a hey down down a down down
His name is Arthur a Bland;
There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire
Dare bid bold Arthur stand.

2 With a long pike-staff upon his shoulder,
So well he can clear his way;
By two and by three he makes them to flee,
For he hath no list to stay.

3 And as he went forth, in a summer’s morning,
Into the forrest of merry Sherwood,
To view the red deer, that range here and there,
There met he with bold Robin Hood.

4 As soon as bold Robin Hood did him espy,
He thought some sport he would make;
Therefore out of hand he bid him to stand,
And thus to him he spake:

5 Why, what art thou, thou bold fellow,
That ranges so boldly here?
In sooth, to be brief, thou lookst like a thief,
That comes to steal our king’s deer.

6 For I am a keeper in this forrest;
The king puts me in trust
To look to his deer, that range here and there,
Therefore stay thee I must.

7 ‘If thou beest a keeper in this forrest,
And hast such a great command,
Yet thou must have more partakers in store,
Before thou make me to stand.’

8 ‘Nay, I have no more partakers in store,
Or any that I do need;
But I have a staff of another oke graff,
I know it will do the deed.’

9 ‘For thy sword and thy bow I care not a straw,
Nor all thine arrows to boot;
If I get a knop upon thy bare scop,
Thou canst as well shite as shoote.’

10 ‘Speak cleanly, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin,
‘And give better terms to me;
Else I’le thee correct for thy neglect,
And make thee more mannerly.’

11 ‘Marry gep with a wenion!’ quoth Arthur a Bland,
‘Art thou such a goodly man?
I care not a fig for thy looking so big;
Mend thou thyself where thou can.’

12 Then Robin Hood he unbuckled his belt,
He laid down his bow so long;
He took up a staff of another oke graff,
That was both stiff and strong.

13 ‘I’le yield to thy weapon,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Since thou wilt not yield to mine;
For I have a staff of another oke graff,
Not half a foot longer then thine.

14 ‘But let me measure,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Before we begin our fray;
For I’le not have mine to be longer then thine,
For that will be called foul play.’

15 ‘I pass not for length,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
‘My staff is of oke so free;
Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf,
And I hope it will knock down thee.’

16 Then Robin Hood could no longer forbear;
He gave him such a knock,
Quickly and soon the blood came down,
Before it was ten a clock.

17 Then Arthur he soon recovered himself,
And gave him such a knock on the crown,
That on every hair of bold Robin Hoods head,
The blood came trickling down.

18 Then Robin Hood raged like a wild bore,
As soon as he saw his own blood;
Then Bland was in hast, he laid on so fast,
As though he had been staking of wood.

19 And about, and about, and about they went,
Like two wild bores in a chase;
Striving to aim each other to maim,
Leg, arm, or any other place.

20 And knock for knock they lustily dealt,
Which held for two hours and more;
That all the wood rang at every bang,
They ply’d their work so sore.

21 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And let our quarrel fall;
For here we may thresh our bones into mesh,
And get no coyn at all.

22 ‘And in the forrest of merry Sherwood
Hereafter thou shalt be free:’
‘God-a-mercy for naught, my freedom I bought,
I may thank my good staff, and not thee.’

23 ‘What tradesman art thou?’ said jolly Robin,
‘Good felow, I prethee me show:
And also me tell in what place thou dost dwel,
For both these fain would I know.’

24 ‘I am a tanner,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
‘In Nottingham long have I wrought;
And if thou’lt come there, I vow and do swear
I will tan thy hide for naught.’

25 ‘God a mercy, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Since thou art so kind to me;
And if thou wilt tan my hide for naught,
I will do as much for thee.

26 ‘But if thou’lt forsake thy tanners trade,
And live in green wood with me,
My name’s Robin Hood, I swear by the rood
I will give thee both gold and fee.’

27 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
‘As I think well thou art,
Then here’s my hand, my name’s Arthur a Bland,
We two will never depart.

28 ‘But tell me, O tell me, where is Little John?
Of him fain would I hear;
For we are alide by the mothers side,
And he is my kinsman near.’

29 Than Robin Hood blew on the beaugle horn,
He blew full lowd and shrill,
But quickly anon appeard Little John,
Come tripping down a green hill.

30 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said Little John,
‘Master, I pray you tell;
Why do you stand with your staff in your hand?
I fear all is not well.’

31 ‘O man, I do stand, and he makes me to stand,
The tanner that stands thee beside;
He is a bonny blade, and master of his trade,
For soundly he hath tand my hide.’

32 ‘He is to be commended,’ then said Little John,
‘If such a feat he can do;
If he be so stout, we will have a bout,
And he shall tan my hide too.’

33 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
‘For as I do understand,
He’s a yeoman good, and of thine own blood,
For his name is Arthur a Bland.’

34 Then Little John threw his staff away,
As far as he could it fling,
And ran out of hand to Arthur a Bland,
And about his neck did cling.

35 With loving respect, there was no neglect,
They were neither nice nor coy,
Each other did face, with a lovely grace,
And both did weep for joy.

36 Then Robin Hood took them both by the hand,
And danc’d round about the oke tree;

146 three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men we be.

37 ‘And ever hereafter, as long as I live,
We three will be all one;
The wood shall ring, and the old wife sing,
Of Robin Hood, Arthur, and John.’

127. Robin Hood and the Tinker

1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green,
Down a down a down
And birds sing on every tree,
Hey down a down a down
Robin Hood went to Nottingham,
Down a down a down
As fast as hee could dree.
Hey down a down a down

2 And as hee came to Nottingham
A Tinker he did meet,
And seeing him a lusty blade,
He did him kindly greet.

3 ‘Where dost thou live?’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘I pray thee now mee tell;
Sad news I hear there is abroad,
I fear all is not well.’

4 ‘What is that news?’ the Tinker said;
‘Tell mee without delay;
I am a tinker by my trade,
And do live at Banbura.’

5 ‘As for the news,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘It is but as I hear;
Two tinkers they were set ith’ stocks,
For drinking ale and bear.’

6 ‘If that be all,’ the Tinker said,
‘As I may say to you,
Your news it is not worth a fart,
Since that they all bee true.

7 ‘For drinking of good ale and bear,
You wil not lose your part:’
‘No, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘I love it with all my heart.

8 ‘What news abroad?’ quoth Robin Hood;
‘Tell mee what thou dost hear;
Being thou goest from town to town,
Some news thou need not fear.’

9 ‘All the news,’ the Tinker said,
‘I hear, it is for good;
It is to seek a bold outlaw,
Which they call Robin Hood.

10 ‘I have a warrant from the king,
To take him where I can;
If you can tell me where hee is,
I will make you a man.

11 ‘The king will give a hundred pound
That hee could but him see;
And if wee can but now him get,
It will serve you and mee.’

12 ‘Let me see that warrant,’ said Robin Hood;
‘I’le see if it bee right;
And I will do the best I can
For to take him this night.’

13 ‘That will I not,’ the Tinker said;
‘None with it I will trust;
And where hee is if you’l not tell,
Take him by force I must.’

14 But Robin Hood perceiving well
How then the game would go,
‘If you will go to Nottingham,
Wee shall find him I know.’

15 The Tinker had a crab-tree staff,
Which was both good and strong;
Robin hee had a good strong blade,
So they went both along.

16 And when they came to Nottingham,
There they both tooke one inn;
And they calld for ale and wine,
To drink it was no sin.

17 But ale and wine they drank so fast
That the Tinker hee forgot
What thing he was about to do;
It fell so to his lot

18 That while the Tinker fell asleep,
Hee made then haste away,
And left the Tinker in the lurch,
For the great shot to pay.

19 But when the Tinker wakened,
And saw that he was gone,
He calld then even for his host,
And thus hee made his moan.

20 ‘I had a warrant from the king,
Which might have done me good,
That is to take a bold outlaw,
Some call him Robin Hood.

21 ‘But now my warrant and mony’s gone,
Nothing I have to pay;
And he that promised to be my friend,
He is gone and fled away.’

22 ‘That friend you tell on,’ said the host,
‘They call him Robin Hood;
And when that first hee met with you,
He ment you little good.’

23 ‘Had I known it had been hee,
When that I had him here,
Th’ one of us should have tri’d our strength
Which should have paid full dear.

24 ‘In the mean time I must away;
No longer here I’le bide;
But I will go and seek him out,
What ever do me betide.

25 ‘But one thing I would gladly know,
What here I have to pay;’
‘Ten shillings just,’ then said the host;
‘I’le pay without delay.

26 ‘Or elce take here my working-bag,
And my good hammer too;
And if that I light but on the knave,
I will then soon pay you.’

27 ‘The onely way,’ then said the host,
‘And not to stand in fear,
Is to seek him among the parks,
Killing of the kings deer.’

28 The Tinker hee then went with speed,
And made then no delay,
Till he had found then Robin Hood,
That they might have a fray.

29 At last hee spy’d him in a park,
Hunting then of the deer;
‘What knave is that,’ quoth Robin Hood,

146 doth come mee so near?’

30 ‘No knave, no knave,’ the Tinker said,
‘And that you soon shall know;
Whether of us hath done most wrong,
My crab-tree staff shall show.’

31 Then Robin drew his gallant blade,
Made then of trusty steel;
But the Tinker laid on him so fast
That he made Robin reel.

32 Then Robins anger did arise;
He fought full manfully,
Vntil hee made the Tinker
Almost then fit to fly.

33 With that they had a bout again,
They ply’d their weapons fast;
The Tinker threshed his bones so sore
He made him yeeld at last.

34 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Robin hee cryes,
‘If thou wilt grant it mee;’
‘Before I do it,’ the Tinker said,
‘I’le hang thee on this tree.’

35 But the Tinker looking him about,
Robin his horn did blow;
Then came unto him Little John,
And William Scadlock too.

36 ‘What is the matter,’ quoth Little John,
‘You sit in th’ highway side?’
‘Here is a Tinker that stands by,
That hath paid well my hide.’

37 ‘That Tinker,’ then said Little John,
‘Fain that blade I would see,
And I would try what I could do,
If hee’l do as much for mee.’

38 But Robin hee then wishd them both
They should the quarrel cease,
‘That henceforth wee may bee as one,
And ever live in peace.

39 ‘And for the jovial Tinker’s part,
A hundred pound I’le give,
In th’ year to maintain him on,
As long as he doth live.

40 ‘In manhood hee is a mettle man,
And a mettle man by trade;
I never thought that any man
Should have made me so fraid.

41 ‘And if hee will bee one of us,
Wee will take all one fare,
And whatsoever wee do get,
He shall have his full share.’

42 So the Tinker was content
With them to go along,
And with them a part to take,
And so I end my song.

128. Robin Hood and the Newly Revived

1 COME listen a while, you gentlemen all,
With a hey down down a down down
That are in this bower within,
For a story of gallant bold Robin Hood
I purpose now to begin.

2 ‘What time of the day?’ quoth Robin Hood then;
Quoth Little John, ’Tis in the prime;
‘Why then we will to the green wood gang,
For we have no vittles to dine.’

3 As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along-+--+-
It was in the mid of the day-+--+-
There was he met of a deft young man
As ever walkt on the way.

4 His doublet it was of silk, he said,
His stockings like scarlet shone,
And he walkt on along the way,
To Robin Hood then unknown.

5 A herd of deer was in the bend,
All feeding before his face:
‘Now the best of ye I’le have to my dinner,
And that in a little space.’

6 Now the stranger he made no mickle adoe,
But he bends and a right good bow,
And the best buck in the herd he slew,
Forty good yards him full froe.

7 ‘Well shot, well shot,’ quoth Robin Hood then,
‘That shot it was shot in time;
And if thou wilt accept of the place,
Thou shalt be a bold yeoman of mine.’

8 ‘Go play the chiven,’ the stranger said,
‘Make haste and quickly go;
Or with my fist, be sure of this,
I’le give thee buffets store.’

9 ‘Thou hadst not best buffet me,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘For though I seem forlorn,
Yet I can have those that will take my part,
If I but blow my horn.’

10 ‘Thou wast not best wind thy horn,’ the stranger said,
‘Beest thou never so much in hast,
For I can draw out a good broad sword,
And quickly cut the blast.’

11 Then Robin Hood bent a very good bow,
To shoot, and that he would fain;
The stranger he bent a very good bow,
To shoot at bold Robin again.

12 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘To shoot it would be in vain;
For if we should shoot the one at the other,
The one of us may be slain.

13 ‘But let’s take our swords and our broad bucklers,
And gang under yonder tree:’
‘As I hope to be sav’d,’ the stranger said,
‘One foot I will not flee.’

14 Then Robin Hood lent the stranger a blow
Most scar’d him out of his wit;
‘Thou never felt blow,’ the stranger he said,
‘That shall be better quit.’

15 The stranger he drew out a good broad sword,
And hit Robin on the crown,
That from every haire of bold Robins head
The blood ran trickling down.

16 ‘God a mercy, good fellow!’ quoth Robin Hood then,
‘And for this thou hast done;
Tell me, good fellow, what thou art,
Tell me where thou doest woon.’

17 The stranger then answered bold Robin Hood,
I’le tell thee where I did dwell;
In Maxfield was I bred and born,
My name is Young Gamwell.

18 For killing of my own fathers steward,
I am forc’d to this English wood,
And for to seek an vncle of mine;
Some call him Robin Hood.

19 ‘But art thou a cousin of Robin Hoods then?
The sooner we should have done:’
‘As I hope to be sav’d,’ the stranger then said,
‘I am his own sisters son.’

20 But, Lord! what kissing and courting was there,
When these two cousins did greet!
And they went all that summers day,
And Little John did meet.

21 But when they met with Little John,
He there unto [him] did say,
O master, where have you been,
You have tarried so long away?

22 ‘I met with a stranger,’ quoth Robin Hood then,
‘Full sore he hath beaten me:’
‘Then I’le have a bout with him,’ quoth Little John,
‘And try if he can beat me.’

23 [no], oh no,’ quoth Robin Hood then,
‘Little John, it may [not] be so;
For he’s my own dear sisters son,
And cousins I have no mo.

24 ‘But he shall be a bold yeoman of mine,
My chief man next to thee;
And I Robin Hood, and thou Little John,
And Scarlet he shall be:

25 ‘And wee’l be three of the bravest outlaws
That is in the North Country.’
If you will have any more of bold Robin Hood,
In his second part it will be.

129. Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragon

1 NOW Robin Hood, Will Scadlock and Little John
Are walking over the plain,
With a good fat buck which Will Scadlock
With his strong bow had slain.

2 ‘Jog on, jog on,’ cries Robin Hood,
‘The day it runs full fast;
For though my nephew me a breakfast gave,
I have not yet broke my fast.

3 ‘Then to yonder lodge let us take our way,
I think it wondrous good,
Where my nephew by my bold yeomen
Shall be welcomd unto the green wood.’

4 With that he took the bugle-horn,
Full well he could it blow;
Streight from the woods came marching down
One hundred tall fellows and mo.

5 ‘Stand, stand to your arms!’ crys Will Scadlock,
‘Lo! the enemies are within ken:’
With that Robin Hood he laughd aloud,
Crys, They are my bold yeomen.

6 Who, when they arriv’d and Robin espy’d,
Cry’d, Master, what is your will?
We thought you had in danger been,
Your horn did sound so shrill.

7 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘The danger is past and gone;
I would have you to welcome my nephew here,
That hath paid me two for one.’

8 In feasting and sporting they passed the day,
Till Phoebus sunk into the deep;
Then each one to his quarters hy’d,
His guard there for to keep.

9 Long had they not walked within the green wood,
But Robin he was espy’d
Of a beautiful damsel all alone,
That on a black palfrey did ride.

10 Her riding-suit was of sable hew black,
Sypress over her face,
Through which her rose-like cheeks did blush,
All with a comely grace.

11 ‘Come, tell me the cause, thou pritty one,’
Quoth Robin, a+end tell me aright,
From whence thou comest, and whither thou goest,
All in this mournful plight?’

12 ‘From London I came,’ the damsel reply’d,
‘From London upon the thames,
Which circled is, O grief to tell!
Besieg’d with forraign arms.

13 ‘By the proud Prince of Aragon,
Who swears by his martial hand
To have the princess for his spouse,
Or else to waste this land:

14 ‘Except that champions can be found
That dare fight three to three,
Against the prince and giants twain,
Most horrid for to see:

15 ‘Whose grisly looks, and eyes like brands,
Strike terrour where they come,
With serpents hissing on their helms,
Instead of feathered plume.

16 ‘The princess shall be the victors prize,
The king hath vowd and said,
And he that shall the conquest win
Shall have her to his bride.

17 ‘Now we are four damsels sent abroad,
To the east, west, north, and south,
To try whose fortune is so good
To find these champions forth.

18 ‘But all in vaine we have sought about;
Yet none so bold there are
That dare adventure life and blood,
To free a lady fair.’

19 ‘When is the day?’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘Tell me this and no more:’
‘On Midsummer next,’ the damsel said,
‘Which is June the twenty-four.’

20 With that the teares trickled down her cheeks,
And silent was her tongue;
With sighs and sobs she took her leave,
Away her palfrey sprung.

21 This news struck Robin to the heart,
He fell down on the grass;
His actions and his troubled mind
Shewd he perplexed was.

22 ‘Where lies your grief?’ quoth Will Scadlock,
‘O master, tell to me;
If the damsels eyes have piercd your heart,
I’ll fetch her back to thee.’

23 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘She doth not cause my smart;
But it is the poor distressed princess
That wounds me to the heart.

24 ‘I will go fight the giants all
To set the lady free:’
‘The devil take my soul,’ quoth Little John,
‘If I part with thy company.’

25 ‘Must I stay behind?’ quoth Will Scadlock;
‘No, no, that must not be;
I’le make the third man in the fight,
So we shall be three to three.’

26 These words cheerd Robin at the heart,
Joy shone within his face;
Within his arms he huggd them both,
And kindly did imbrace.

27 Quoth he, We’ll put on mothly gray,
With long staves in our hands,
A scrip and bottle by our sides,
As come from the Holy Land.

28 So may we pass along the high-way;
None will ask from whence we came,
But take us pilgrims for to be,
Or else some holy men.

29 Now they are on their journey gone,
As fast as they may speed,
Yet for all haste, ere they arriv’d,
The princess forth was led:

30 To be deliverd to the prince,
Who in the list did stand,
Prepar’d to fight, or else receive
His lady by the hand.

31 With that he walkt about the lists,
With giants by his side:
‘Bring forth,’ said he, ’your champions,
Or bring me forth my bride.

32 ‘This is the four and twentieth day,
The day prefixt upon;
Bring forth my bride, or London burns,
I swear by Acaron.’

33 Then cries the king, and queen likewise,
Both weeping as they speak,
Lo! we have brought our daughter dear,
Whom we are forcd to forsake.

34 With that stept out bold Robin Hood,
Crys, My liege, it must not be so;
Such beauty as the fair princess
Is not for a tyrants mow.

35 The prince he then began to storm;
Crys, Fool, fanatick, baboon!
How dares thou stop my valours prize?
I’ll kill thee with a frown.

36 ‘Thou tyrant Turk, thou infidel,’
Thus Robin began to reply,
‘Thy frowns I scorn; lo! here’s my gage,
And thus I thee defie.

37 ‘And for these two Goliahs there,
That stand on either side,
Here are two little Davids by,
That soon can tame their pride.’

38 Then did the king for armour send,
For lances, swords, and shields:
And thus all three in armour bright
Came marching to the field.

39 The trumpets began to sound a charge,
Each singled out his man;
Their arms in pieces soon were hewd,
Blood sprang from every vain.

40 The prince he reacht Robin a blow-+--+-
He struck with might and main-+--+-
Which forcd him to reel about the field,
As though he had been slain.

41 ‘God-a-mercy,’ quoth Robin, ’For that blow!
The quarrel shall soon be try’d;
This stroke shall shew a full divorce
Betwixt thee and thy bride.’

42 So from his shoulders he’s cut his head,
Which on the ground did fall,
And grumbling sore at Robin Hood,
To be so dealt withal.

43 The giants then began to rage,
To see their prince lie dead:
‘Thou’s be the next,’ quoth Little John,
‘Unless thou well guard thy head.’

44 With that his faulchion he whirld about-+--+-
It was both keen and sharp-+--+-
He clove the giant to the belt,
And cut in twain his heart.

45 Will Scadlock well had playd his part,
The giant he had brought to his knee;
Quoth he, The devil cannot break his fast,
Unless he have you all three.

46 So with his faulchion he run him through,
A deep and gashly wound;
Who damd and foamd, cursd and blasphemd,
And then fell to the ground.

47 Now all the lists with cheers were filld,
The skies they did resound,
Which brought the princess to herself,
Who was faln in a swound.

48 The king and queen and princess fair
Came walking to the place,
And gave the champions many thanks,
And did them further grace.

49 ‘Tell me,’ quoth the king, ’whence you are,
That thus disguised came,
Whose valour speaks that noble blood
Doth run through every vain.’

50 ‘A boon, a boon,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘On my knees I beg and crave:’
‘By my crown,’ quoth the king, ‘I grant;
Ask what, and thou shalt have.’

51 ‘Then pardon I beg for my merry men,
Which are within the green wood,
For Little John, and Will Scadlock,
And for me, bold Robin Hood.’

52 ‘Art thou Robin Hood?’ then quoth the king;
‘For the valour you have shewn,
Your pardons I doe freely grant,
And welcome every one.

53 ‘The princess I promised the victors prize;
She cannot have you all three:;
‘She shall chuse,’ quoth Robin; saith Little John,
Then little share falls to me.

54 Then did the princess view all three,
With a comely lovely grace,
Who took Will Scadlock by the hand,
Quoth, Here I make my choice.

55 With that a noble lord stept forth,
Of Maxfield earl was he,
Who lookt Will Scadlock in the face,
Then wept most bitterly.

56 Quoth he, I had a son like thee,
Whom I lovd wondrous well;
But he is gone, or rather dead;
His name is Young Gamwell.

57 Then did Will Scadlock fall on his knees,
Cries, Father! father! here,
Here kneels your son, your Young Gamwell
You said you lovd so dear.

58 But, lord! what imbracing and kissing was there,
When all these friends were met!
They are gone to the wedding, and so to bedding,
And so I bid you good night.

130. Robin Hood and the Scotchman

Version A

1 THEN bold Robin Hood to the north he would go,
With a hey down down a down down
With valour and mickle might,
With sword by his side, which oft had been tri’d,
To fight and recover his right.

2 The first that he met was a bony bold Scot,
His servant he said he would be;
‘No,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’it cannot be good,
For thou wilt prove false unto me.

3 ‘Thou hast not bin true to sire nor cuz:’
‘Nay, marry,’ the Scot he said,
‘As true as your heart, I’le never part,
Gude master, be not afraid.’

4 Then Robin Hood turnd his face to the east;
‘Fight on my merry men stout,
Our cause is good,’ quoth brave Robin Hood,
‘And we shall not be beaten out.’

5 The battel grows hot on every side,
The Scotchman made great moan;
Quoth Jockey, Gude faith, they fight on each side;
Would I were with my wife Ione!

6 The enemy compast brave Robin about,
’Tis long ere the battel ends;
Ther’s neither will yeeld nor give up the field,
For both are supplied with friends.

7 This song it was made in Robin Hoods dayes;
Let’s pray unto Iove above
To give us true peace, that mischief may cease,
And war may give place unto love.

Version B

1 NOW bold Robin Hood to the north would go,
With valour and mickle might,
With sword by his side, which oft had been try’d,
To fight and recover his right.

2 The first that he met was a jolly stout Scot,
His servant he said he would be;
‘No,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’it cannot be good,
For thou wilt prove false unto me.

3 ‘Thou hast not been true to sire or cuz;’
‘Nay, marry,’ the Scot he said,
‘As true as your heart, I never will part;
Good master, be not afraid.’

4 ‘But eer I employ you,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘With you I must have a bout;’
The Scotchman reply’d, Let the battle be try’d,
For I know I will beat you out.

5 Thus saying, the contest did quickly begin,
Which lasted two hours and more;
The blows Sawney gave bold Robin so brave
The battle soon made him give oer.

6 ‘Have mercy, thou Scotchman,’ bold Robin Hood cry’d,
‘Full dearly this boon have I bought;
We will both agree, and my man you shall be,
For a stouter I never have fought.’

7 Then Sawny consented with Robin to go,
To be of his bowmen so gay;
Thus ended the fight, and with mickle delight
To Sherwood they hasted away.

131. Robin Hood and the Ranger

1 WHEN Ph’qbus had melted the sickles of ice,
With a hey down, &c.
And likewise the mountains of snow,
Bold Robin Hood he would ramble to see,
To frolick abroad with his bow.

2 He left all his merry men waiting behind,
Whilst through the green vallies he passd;
There did he behold a forester bold,
Who cry’d out, Friend, whither so fast?

3 ‘I’m going,’ quoth Robin, ’To kill a fat buck,
For me and my merry men all;
Besides, eer I go, I’ll have a fat doe,
Or else it shall cost me a fall.’

4 ‘You’d best have a care,’ said the forester then,
‘For these are his majesty’s deer;
Before you shall shoot, the thing I’ll dispute,
For I am head-forester here.’

5 ‘These thirteen long summers,’ quoth Robin, ‘I’m sure,
My arrows I here have let fly,
Where freely I range; methinks it is strange,
You should have more power than I.

6 ‘This forest,’ quoth Robin, ‘I think is my own,
And so are the nimble deer too;
Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear,
I wont be affronted by you.’

7 The forester he had a long quarter-staff,
Likewise a broad sword by his side;
Without more ado, he presently drew,
Declaring the truth should be try’d.

8 Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best,
Thus, eer he would take any wrong,
His courage was flush, he’d venture a brush,
And thus they fell to it ding dong.

9 The very first blow that the forester gave,
He made his broad weapon cry twang;
’Twas over the head, he fell down for dead,
O that was a damnable bang!

10 But Robin soon did recover himself,
And bravely fell to it again;
The very next stroke their weapons were broke,
Yet never a man there was slain.

11 At quarter-staff then they resolved to play,
Because they would have t’other bout;
And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood,
Unwilling he was to give out.

12 Bold Robin he gave him very hard blows,
The other returnd them as fast;
At every stroke their jackets did smoke,
Three hours the combat did last.

13 length in a rage the bold forester grew
And cudgeld bold Robin so sore
That he could not stand, so shaking his hand,
He said, Let us freely give oer.

14 Thou art a brave fellow, I needs must confess
I never knew any so good;
Thou’rt fitting to be a yeoman for me,
And range in the merry green wood.

15 I’ll give thee this ring as a token of love,
For bravely thou’st acted thy part;
That man that can fight, in him I delight,
And love him with all my whole heart.

16 Then Robin Hood setting his horn to his mouth,
A blast he merrily blows;
His yeomen did hear, and strait did appear,
A hundred, with trusty long bows.

17 Now Little John came at the head of them all,
Cloathd in a rich mantle of green;
And likewise the rest were gloriously drest,
A delicate sight to be seen.

18 ‘Lo, these are my yeomen,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And thou shalt be one of the train;
A mantle and bow, a quiver also,
I give them whom I entertain.’

19 The forester willingly enterd the list,
They were such a beautiful sight;
Then with a long bow they shot a fat doe,
And made a rich supper that night.

20 What singing and dancing was in the green wood,
For joy of another new mate!
With mirth and delight they spent the long night,
And liv’d at a plentiful rate.

21 forester neer was so merry before
As then he was with these brave souls,
Who never would fail, in wine, beer, or ale,
To take off their cherishing bowls.

22 Then Robin Hood gave him a mantle of green,
Broad arrows, and a curious long bow;
This done, the next day, so gallant and gay,
He marched them all on a row.

23 Quoth he, My brave yeomen, be true to your trust,
And then we may range the woods wide:
They all did declare, and solemnly swear,
They’d conquer, or die by his side.

132. The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood

1 THERE chanced to be a pedlar bold,
A pedlar bold he chanced to be;
He rolled his pack all on his back,
And he came tripping oer the lee.
Down a down a down a down,
Down a down a down

2 By chance he met two troublesome blades,
Two troublesome blades they chanced to be;
The one of them was bold Robin Hood,
And the other was Little John so free.

3 ‘O pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack?
Come speedilie and tell to me:’
‘I’ve several suits of the gay green silks,
And silken bow-strings two or three.’

4 ‘If you have several suits of the gay green silk,
And silken bow-strings two or three,
Then it’s by my body,’ cries Little John,
‘One half your pack shall belong to me.’

5 ‘O nay, o nay,’ says the pedlar bold,
‘O nay, o nay, that never can be;
For there’s never a man from fair Nottingham
Can take one half my pack from me.’

6 Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack,
And put it a little below his knee,
Saying, If you do move me one perch from this,
My pack and all shall gang with thee.

7 Then Little John he drew his sword,
The pedlar by his pack did stand;
They fought until they both did sweat,
Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand!

8 Then Robin Hood he was standing by,
And he did laugh most heartilie;
Saying, I could find a man, of a smaller scale,
Could thrash the pedlar and also thee.

9 ‘Go you try, master,’ says Little John,
‘Go you try, master, most speedilie,
Or by my body,’ says Little John,
‘I am sure this night you will not know me.’

10 Then Robin Hood he drew his sword,
And the pedlar by his pack did stand;
They fought till the blood in streams did flow,
Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand!

11 Pedlar, pedlar, what is thy name?
Come speedilie and tell to me:
‘My name! my name I neer will tell,
Till both your names you have told to me.’

12 ‘The one of us is bold Robin Hood,
And the other Little John so free:’
‘Now,’ says the pedlar, ’it lays to my good will,
Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.

13 ‘I am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,
And travelled far beyond the sea;
For killing a man in my father’s land
From my country I was forced to flee.’

14 ‘If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,
And travelled far beyond the sea,
You are my mother’s own sister’s son;
What nearer cousins then can we be?’

15 They sheathed their swords with friendly words,
So merrilie they did agree;
They went to a tavern, and there they dined,
And bottles cracked most merrilie.

133. Robin Hood and the Beggar, I

1 COME light and listen, you gentlemen all,
Hey down, down, and a down
That mirth do love for to hear,
And a story true I’le tell unto you,
If that you will but draw near.

2 In elder times, when merriment was,
And archery was holden good,
There was an outlaw, as many did know,
Which men called Robin Hood.

3 Vpon a time it chanced so
Bold Robin was merry disposed,
His time to spend he did intend,
Either with friends or foes.

4 Then he got vp on a gallant brave steed,
The which was worth angels ten;
With a mantle of green, most brave to be seen,
He left all his merry men.

5 And riding towards fair Nottingham,
Some pastime for to spy,
There was he aware of a jolly beggar
As ere he beheld with his eye.

6 An old patcht coat the beggar had on,
Which he daily did vse for to wear;
And many a bag about him did wag,
Which made Robin Hood to him repair.

7 ‘God speed, God speed,’ said Robin Hood,
‘What countryman? tell to me:’
‘I am Yorkeshire, sir; but, ere you go far,
Some charity give vnto me.’

8 ‘Why, what wouldst thou have?’ said Robin Hood,
‘I pray thee tell vnto me:’
‘No lands nor livings,’ the beggar he said,
‘But a penny for charitie.’

9 ‘I have no money,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘But, a ranger within the wood,
I am an outlaw, as many do know,
My name it is Robin Hood.

10 ‘But yet I must tell thee, bonny beggar,
That a bout with [thee] I must try;
Thy coat of gray, lay down I say,
And my mantle of green shall lye by.’

11 ‘Content, content,’ the beggar he cry’d,
‘Thy part it will be the worse;
For I hope this to give thee the rout,
And the have at thy purse.’

12 The beggar he had a mickle long staffe,
And Robin had a nut-brown sword;
So the beggar drew nigh, and at Robin let fly,
But gave him never a word.

13 ‘Fight on, fight on,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘This game well pleaseth me;’
For every blow that Robin did give,
The beggar gave buffets three.

14 And fighting there full hard and sore,
Not far from Nottingham town,
They never fled, till from Robin[’s] head
The blood came trickling down.

15 ‘O hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘And thou and I will agree;’
‘If that be true,’ the beggar he said,
‘Thy mantle come give vnto me.’

16 ‘Nay a change, a change,’ cri’d Robin Hood;
‘Thy bags and coat give me,
And this mantle of mine I’le to thee resign,
My horse and my braverie.’

17 When Robin Hood had got the beggars clothes,
He looked round about;
‘Methinks,’ said he, ‘I seem to be
A beggar brave and stout.

18 ‘For now I have a bag for my bread,
So have I another for corn;
I have one for salt, and another for malt,
And one for my little horn.

19 ‘And now I will a begging goe,
Some charitie for to find:’
And if any more of Robin you’l know,
In this second part it’s behind.

20 Now Robin he is to Nottingham bound,
With his bags hanging down to his knee,
His staff, and his coat, scarce worth a groat,
Yet merrilie passed he.

21 As Robin he passed the streets along,
He heard a pittifull cry;
Three brethren deer, as he did hear,
Condemned were to dye.

22 n Robin he highed to the sheriffs [house],
Some reliefe for to seek;
He skipt, and leapt, and capored full high,
As he went along the street.

23 But when to the sheriffs doore he came,
There a gentleman fine and brave,
‘Thou beggar,’ said he, ’Come tell vnto me
What is it that thou wouldest have?’

24 ‘No meat, nor drink,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘That I come here to crave;
But to beg the lives of yeomen three,
And that I fain would have.’

25 ‘That cannot be, thou bold beggar,
Their fact it is so cleer;
I tell to thee, hanged they must be,
For stealing of our kings deer.’

26 But when to the gallows they did come,
There was many a weeping eye:
‘O hold your peace,’ said Robin then,
‘For certainly they shall not dye.’

27 Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth,
And he blew but blastes three,
Till a hundred bold archers brave
Came kneeling down to his knee.

28 ‘What is your will, master?’ they said,
‘We are here at your command:’
‘Shoot east, shoot west,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘And look that you spare no man.’

29 Then they shot east, and they shot west;
Their arrows were so keen
The sheriffe he, and his companie,
No longer must be seen.

30 Then he stept to these brethren three,
And away he had them tane;
But the sheriff was crost, and many a man lost,
That dead lay on the plain.

31 And away they went into the merry green wood,
And sung with a merry glee,
And Robin took these brethren good
To be of his yeomandrie.

134. Robin Hood and the Beggar, II

1 LYTH and listen, gentlemen,
That’s come of high born blood;
I’ll tell you of a brave booting
That befel Robin Hood.

2 Robin Hood upon a day,
He went forth him alone,
And as he came from Barnesdale
Into a fair evening,

3 He met a beggar on the way,
That sturdily could gang;
He had a pike-staff in his hand,
That was baith stark and strang.

4 A clouted cloak about him was,
That held him from the cold;
The thinnest bit of it, I guess,
Was more than twenty fold.

5 His meal-pock hang about his neck,
Into a leathern fang,
Well fasteneg with a broad buckle,
That was both stark and strang.

6 He had three hats upon his head,
Together sticked fast;
He cared neither for wind nor weet,
In lands wherever he past.

7 Good Robin coost him in his way,
To see what he might be;
If any beggar had money,
He thought some part had he.

8 ‘Tarry, tarry,’ good Robin says,
‘Tarry, and speak with me;’
He heard him as he heard [him] not,
And fast his way can hie.

9 ‘It be’s not so,’ says good Robin,
‘Nay, thou must tarry still;’
‘By my troth,’ says the bold beggar,
‘Of that I have no will.

10 RR’rrit is far to my lodging-house,
And it is growing late;
If they have supt ere I come in,
I will look wondrous blate.’

11 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘I see well by thy fare,
If thou chear well to thy supper,
Of mine thou takes no care;

12 ‘Who wants my dinner all the day,
And wots not where to lie,
And should I to the tavern go,
I want money to buy.

13 ‘Sir, thou must lend me some money,
Till we two meet again:’
The beggar answerd cankerdly,
I have no money to lend.

14 Thou art as young a man as I,
And seems to be as sweer;
If thou fast till thou get from me,
Thou shalt eat none this year.

15 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘Since we are sembled so,
If thou have but a small farthing,
I’ll have it ere thou go.

16 Therefore, lay down thy clouted cloak,
And do no longer stand,
And loose the strings of all thy pocks:
I’ll ripe them with my hand.

17 ‘And now to thee I make a vow,
If thou make any din,
I shall see if a broad arrow
Can pierce a beggar’s skin.’

18 The beggar smil’d, and answer made:
Far better let me be;
Think not that I will be afraid
For thy nip crooked tree.

19 Or that I fear thee any whit
For thy curn nips of sticks;
I know no use for them so meet
As to be pudding-pricks.

20 Here I defy thee to do me ill,
For all thy boistrous fare;
Thou’s get nothing from me but ill,
Would thou seek it evermair.

21 Good Robin bent his noble bow-+--+-
He was an angry man-+--+-
And in it set a broad arrow;
Yet er ’twas drawn a span,

22 The beggar, with his noble tree,
Reacht him so round a rout
That his bow and his broad arrow
In flinders flew about.

23 Good Robin bound him to his brand,
But that provd likewise vain;
The beggar lighted on his hand
With his pike-staff again.

24 I wot he might not draw a sword
For forty days and more;
Good Robin could not speak a word,
His heart was never so sore.

25 He could not fight, he could not flee,
He wist not what to do;
The beggar, with his noble tree,
Laid lusty flaps him to.

26 He paid good Robin back and side,
And beft him up and down,
And with his pike-staff still on laid
Till he fell in a swoon.

27 ‘Fy! stand up, man,’ the beggar said,
‘’Tis shame to go to rest;
Stay still till thou get thy mony [told],
I think it were the best.

28 ‘And syne go to the tavern-house,
And buy both wine and ale;
Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse,
Thou has been at a dale.’

29 Good Robin answerd never a word,
But lay still as a stane;
His cheeks were white as any clay,
And closed were his eyne.

30 The beggar thought him dead but fail,
And boldly bownd away;
I would you had been at the dale,
And gotten part of the play.

31 Now three of Robin’s men, by chance,
Came walking on the way,
And found their master in a trance,
On ground where he did lie.

32 Up have they taken good Robin,
Making a piteous bier,
Yet saw they no man there at whom
They might the matter spear.

33 They looked him all round about,
But wounds on him saw none,
Yet at his mouth came bocking out
The blood of a good vein.

34 Cold water they have taken syne,
And cast into his face;
Then he began to lift his eyne,
And spake within short space.

35 ‘Tell us, dear master,’ says his men,
‘How with you stands the case?’
Good Robin sighd ere he began
To tell of his disgrace.

36 ‘I have been watchman in this wood
Near hand this forty year,
Yet I was never so hard bestead
As you have found me here.

37 ‘A beggar with a clouted cloak,
In whom I feard no ill,
Hath with a pike-staff clawed my back;
I fear ’t shall never be well.

38 ‘See, where he goes out oer yon hill,
With hat upon his head;
If ever you lovd your master well,
Go now revenge this deed.

39 ‘And bring him back again to me,
If it lie in your might,
That I may see, before I die,
Him punisht in my sight.

40 ‘And if you may not bring him back,
Let him not go loose on;
For to us all it were great shame
If he escapt again.’

41 ‘One of us shall with you remain,
Because you’re ill at ease;
The other two shall bring him back,
To use him as you please.’

42 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘I trow there’s enough said;
If he get scouth to weild his tree,
I fear you’ll both be paid.’

43 ‘Be ye not feard, our good master,
That we two can be dung
With any blutter base beggar,
That hath nought but a rung.

44 ‘His staff shall stand him in no stead;
That you shall shortly see;
But back again he shall be led,
And fast bound shall he be,
To see if you will have him slain,
Or hanged on a tree.’

45 ‘But cast you slily in his way,
Before he be aware,
And on his pike-staff first lay hands;
You’ll speed the better far.’

46 Now leave we Robin with his man,
Again to play the child,
And learn himself to stand and gang
By haulds, for all his eild.

47 Now pass we to the bold beggar,
That raked oer the hill,
Who never mended his pace no more
Nor he had done no ill.

48 The young men knew the country well,
So soon where he would be,
And they have taken another way,
Was nearer by miles three.

49 They rudely ran with all their might,
Spar’d neither dub nor mire,
They stirred neither at laigh nor hight,
No travel made them tire,

50 Till they before the beggar wan,
And coost them in his way;
A little wood lay in a glen,
And there they both did stay.

51 They stood up closely by a tree,
In ilk side of the gate,
Until the beggar came them to,
That thought not of such fate.

52 And as he was betwixt them past,
They leapt upon him baith;
The one his pike-staff gripped fast,
They feared for its scaith.

53 The other he held in his sight
A drawn dirk to his breast,
And said, False carl, quit thy staff,
Or I shall be thy priest.

54 His pike-staff they have taken him frae,
And stuck it in the green;
He was full leath to let [it] gae,
If better might have been.

55 The beggar was the feardest man
Of one that ever might be;
To win away no way he can,
Nor help him with his tree.

56 He wist not wherefore he was tane,
Nor how many was there;
He thought his life-days had been gone,
And grew into despair.

57 ‘Grant me my life,’ the beggar said,
‘For him that died on tree,
And take away that ugly knife,
Or then for fear I’ll die.

58 ‘I grievd you never in all my life,
By late nor yet by ayre;
Ye have great sin,if ye should slay
A silly poor beggar.’

59 ‘Thou lies, false lown,’ they said again,
‘By all that may be sworn;
Thou hast near slain the gentlest man
That ever yet was born.

60 ‘And back again thou shalt be led,
And fast bound shalt thou be,
To see if he will have thee slain,
Or hanged on a tree.’

61 The beggar then thought all was wrong;
They were set for his wrack;
He saw nothing appearing then
But ill upon worse back.

62 Were he out of their hands, he thought,
And had again his tree,
He should not be had back for nought,
With such as he did see.

63 Then he bethought him on a wile,
If it could take effect,
How he the young men might beguile,
And give them a begeck.

64 Thus for to do them shame or ill
His beastly breast was bent;
He found the wind grew something shril,
To further his intent.

65 He said, Brave gentlemen, be good,
And let the poor man be;
When ye have taken a beggar’s blood,
It helps you not a flee.

66 It was but in my own defence,
If he hath gotten skaith;
But I will make a recompence,
Much better for you baith.

67 If ye will set me safe and free,
And do me no danger,
An hundred pounds I will you give,
And much more good silver,

68 That I have gathered these many years,
Under this clouted cloak,
And hid up wonder privately,
In bottom of my pock.

69 The young men to a council yeed,
And let the beggar gae;
They wist how well he had no speed
From them to run away.

70 They thought they would the money take,
Come after what so may,
And then they would not bring him back,
But in that part him slay.

71 By that good Robin would not know
That they had gotten coin;
It would content him for to show
That there they had him slain.

72 They said, False carl, soon have done
And tell forth that money;
For the ill turn thou hast done
’Tis but a simple fee.

73 And yet we will not have thee back,
Come after what so may,
If thou will do that which thou spake,
And make us present pay.

74 O then loosd his clouted cloak,
And spread it on the ground,
And thereon he laid many a pock,
Betwixt them and the wind.

75 He took a great bag from his hase;
It was near full of meal;
Two pecks in it at least there was,
And more, I wot full well.

76 Upon his cloak he laid it down,
The mouth he opend wide,
To turn the same he made him bown,
The young men ready spy’d.

77 In every hand he took a nook
Of that great leathern meal,
And with a fling the meal he shook
Into their faces hail.

78 Wherewith he blinded them so close
A stime they could not see;
And then in heart he did rejoice,
And clapt his lusty tree.

79 He thought, if he had done them wrong
In mealing of their cloaths,
For to strike off the meal again
With his pike-staff he goes.

80 Or any one of them could red their eyne,
Or yet a glimmering could see,
Ilk ane of them a dozen had,
Well laid on with the tree.

81 The young men were right swift of foot,
And boldly ran away;
The beggar could them no more hit,
For all the haste he may.

82 ‘What ails this haste?’ the beggar said,
‘May ye not tarry still,
Until your money be receivd?
I’ll pay you with good will.

83 ‘The shaking of my pocks, I fear,
Hath blown into your eyne;
But I have a good pike-staff here
Will ripe them out full clean.’

84 The young men answerd neer a word,
They were dumb as a stane;
In the thick wood the beggar fled,
Eer they riped their eyne.

85 And syne the night became so late,
To seek him was but vain:
But judge ye, if they looked blate
When they came home again.

86 Good Robin speard how they had sped;
They answerd him, Full ill;
‘That cannot be,’ good Robin says;
‘Ye have been at the mill.

87 ‘The mill is a meatrif place,
They may lick what they please;
Most like ye have been at that art,
Who would look to your cloaths.’

88 They hangd their heads, and droped down,
A word they could not speak:
Robin said, Because I fell a-swoon,
I think you’ll do the like.

89 Tell on the matter, less and more,
And tell me what and how
Ye have done with the bold beggar
I sent you for right now.

90 And then they told him to an end,
As I have said before,
How that the beggar did them blind,
What misters process more.

91 And how he lin’d their shoulders broad
With his great trenchen tree,
And how in the thick wood he fled,
Eer they a stime could see.

92 And how they scarcely could win home,
Their bones were beft so sore:
Good Robin cry’d, Fy! out, for shame!
We’re sham’d for evermore.

93 Altho good Robin would full fain
Of his wrong revenged be,
He smil’d to see his merry young men
Had gotten a taste of the tree.

135. Robin Hood and the Shepherd

1 ALL gentlemen and yeomen good,
Down a down a down a down
I wish you to draw near;
For a story of gallant brave Robin Hood
Vnto you I wil declare.
Down, etc.

2 As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along,
Some pastime for to spie,
There was he aware of a jolly shepherd,
That on the ground did lie.

3 ‘Arise, arise,’ cryed jolly Robin,
‘And now come let me see
What is in thy bag and bottle, I say;
Come tell it unto me.’

4 ‘What’s that to thee, thou proud fellow?
Tell me as I do stand
What thou hast to do with my bag and bottle?
Let me see thy command.’

5 ‘My sword, which hangeth by my side,
Is my command I know;
Come, and let me taste of thy bottle,
Or it may breed thee wo.’

6 ‘Tut, the devil a drop, thou proud fellow,
Of my bottle thou shalt see,
Untill thy valour here be tried,
Whether thou wilt fight or flee.’

7 ‘What shall we fight for?’ cries bold Robin Hood;
‘Come tell it soon to me;
Here is twenty pounds in good red gold;
Win it, and take it thee.’

8 The Shepherd stood all in a maze,
And knew not what to say:
‘I have no money, thou proud fellow,
But bag and bottle I’le lay.’

9 ‘I am content, thou shepherd-swain,
Fling them down on the ground;
But it will breed thee mickle pain,
To win my twenty pound.’

10 ‘Come draw thy sword, thou proud fellow,
Thou stands too long to prate;
This hook of mine shall let thee know
A coward I do hate.’

11 So they fell to it, full hardy and sore;
It was in a summers day;
From ten till four in the afternoon
The Shepherd held him play.

12 Robins buckler proved his chief defence,
And saved him many a bang,
For every blow the Shepherd gave
Made Robins sword cry twang.

13 y a sturdy blow the Shepherd gave,
And that bold Robin found,
Till the blood ran trickling from his head;
Then he fell to the ground.

14 ‘Arise, arise, thou proud fellow,
And thou shalt have fair play,
If thou wilt yield, before thou go,
That I have won the day.’

15 ‘A boon, a boon,’ cried bold Robin;
‘If that a man thou be,
Then let me take my beaugle-horn,
And blow but blasts three.’

16 ‘To blow three times three,’ the Shepherd said,
‘I will not thee deny;
For if thou shouldest blow till to-morrow morn,
I scorn one foot to fly.’

17 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,
And he blew with mickle main,
Until he espied Little John
Come tripping over the plain.

18 ‘O who is yonder, thou proud fellow,
That comes down yonder hill?’
‘Yonder is Little John, bold Robin Hoods man,
Shall fight with thee thy fill.’

19 ‘What is the matter?’ saies Little John,
‘Master, come tell to me:’
‘My case is great,’ saies Robin Hood,
‘For the Shepherd hath conquered me.’

20 ‘I am glad of that,’ cries Little John,
‘Shepherd, turn thou to me;
For a bout with thee I mean to have,
Either come fight or flee.’

21 ‘With all my heart, thou proud fellow,
For it never shall be said
That a shepherds hook of thy sturdy look
Will one jot be dismaid.’

22 So they fell to it, full hardy and sore,
Striving for victory;
‘I will know,’ saies John, re we give ore,
Whether thou wilt fight or flye.’

23 The Shepherd gave John a sturdy blow,
With his hook under the chin;
‘Beshrew thy heart,’ said Little John,
‘Thou basely dost begin.’

24 ‘Nay, that’s nothing,’ said the Shepherd;
‘Either yield to me the day,
Or I will bang thee back and sides,
Before thou goest thy way.

25 ‘What? dost thou think, thou proud fellow,
That thou canst conquer me?
Nay, thou shalt know, before thou go,
I’le fight before I’le flee.’

26 With that to thrash Little John like mad
The Shepherd he begun;
‘Hold, hold,’ cryed bold Robin Hood,
‘And I’le yield the wager won.’

27 ‘With all my heart,’ said Little John,
‘To that I will agree;
For he is the flower of shepherd-swains,
The like I never did see.’

28 Thus have you heard of Robin Hood,
Also of Little John,
How a shepherd-swain did conquer them;
The like did never none.

136. Robin Hood's Delight

1 THERE is some will talk of lords and knights,
Doun a doun a doun a doun
And some of yeoman good,
But I will tell you of Will Scarlock,
Little John and Robin Hood.
Doun a doun a doun a doun

2 They were outlaws, as ’tis well known,
And men of a noble blood;
And many a time was their valour shown
In the forrest of merry Sheerwood.

3 Vpon a time it chanced so,
As Robin Hood would have it be,
They all three would a walking go,
Some pastime for to see.

4 And as they walked the forest along,
Upon a midsummer day,
There was they aware of three keepers,
Clade all in green aray.

5 With brave long faucheons by their sides,
And forest-bills in hand,
They calld aloud to those bold outlaws,
And charged them to stand.

6 ‘Why, who are you,’ cry’d bold Robin,
‘That speaks so boldly here?’
‘We three belong to King Henry,
And are keepers of his deer.’

7 ‘The devil thou art!’ sayes Robin Hood,
‘I am sure that it is not so;
We be the keepers of this forest,
And that you soon shall know.

8 ‘Come, your coats of green lay on the ground,
And so will we all three,
And take your swords and bucklers round,
And try the victory.’

9 ‘We be content,’ the keepers said,

146 be three, and you no less;
Then why should we be of you afraid,
And we never did transgress?’

10 ‘Why, if you be three keepers in this forest,
Then we be three rangers good,
And we will make you to know, before you do go,
You meet with bold Robin Hood.’

11 ‘We be content, thou bold outlaw,
Our valour here to try,
And we will make you know, before we do go,
We will fight before we will fly.

12 ‘Then, come draw your swords, you bold outlaws,
And no longer stand to prate,
But let us try it out with blows,
For cowards we do hate.

13 ‘Here is one of us for Will Scarlock,
And another for Little John,
And I my self for Robin Hood,
Because he is stout and strong.’

14 So they fell to it full hard and sore;
It was on a midsummers day;
From eight a clock till two and past,
They all shewed gallant play.

15 There Robin, and Will, and Little John,
They fought most manfully,
Till all their winde was spent and gone,
Then Robin aloud did cry:

16 ‘O hold, O hold,’ cries bold Robin,
‘I see you be stout men;
Let me blow one blast on my bugle-horn,
Then I’le fight with you again.’

17 ‘That bargain’s to make, bold Robin Hood,
Therefore we it deny;
Though a blast upon thy bugle-horn
Cannot make us fight nor fly.

18 ‘Therefore fall on, or else be gone,
And yield to us the day:
It shall never be said that we were afraid
Of thee, nor thy yeomen gay.’

19 ‘If that be so,’ cries bold Robin,
‘Let me but know your names,
And in the forest of merry Sheerwood
I shall extol your fames.’

20 ‘And with our names,’ one of them said,
‘What hast thou here to do?
Except that you will fight it out,
Our names thou shalt not know.’

21 ‘We will fight no more,’ sayes bold Robin,
‘You be men of valour stout;
Come and go with me to Nottingham,
And there we will fight it out.

22 ‘With a but of sack we will bang it out,
To see who wins the day;
And for the cost, make you no doubt
I have gold and money to pay

23 ‘And ever after, so long as we live,
We all will brethren be;
For I love those men with heart and hand
That will fight, and never flee.’

24 So away they went to Nottingham,
With sack to make amends;
For three dayes space they wine did chase,
And drank themselves good friends.

137. Robin Hood and the Pedlars

1 WILL you heare a tale of Robin Hood,
Will Scarlett, and Little John?
Now listen awhile, it will make you smile,
As before it hath many done.

2 They were archers three, of hie degree,
As good as ever drewe bowe;
Their arrowes were long and their armes were strong,
As most had cause to knowe.

3 But one sommers day, as they toke their way
Through the forrest of greene Sherwood,
To kill the kings deare, you shall presently heare
What befell these archers good.

4 They were ware on the roade of three peddlers with loade,
Ffor each had his packe,
Ffull of all wares for countrie faires,
Trusst up upon his backe.

5 A good oke staffe, a yard and a halfe,
Each one had in his hande;
And they were all bound to Nottingham towne,
As you shall understand.

6 ‘Yonder I see bolde peddlers three,’
Said Robin to Scarlett and John;
‘We’le search their packes upon their backes
Before that they be gone.

7 ‘Holla, good fellowes!’ quod Robin Hood,
‘Whither is it ye doe goe?
Now stay and rest, for that is the best,
’Tis well ye should doe soe.’

8 ‘Noe rest we neede, on our roade we speede,
Till to Nottingham we get:’
‘Thou tellst a lewde lye,’ said Robin, ’For I
Can see that ye swinke and swet.’

9 The peddlers three crosst over the lee,
They did not list to fight:
‘I charge you tarrie,’ quod Robin, ’For marry,
This is my owne land by right.

10 ‘This is my manner and this is my parke,
I would have ye for to knowe;
Ye are bolde outlawes, I see by cause
Ye are so prest to goe.’

11 The peddlers three turned round to see
Who it might be they herd;
Then agen went on as they list to be gone,
And never answered word.

12 n toke Robin Hood an arrow so good,
Which he did never lacke,
And drew his bowe, and the swift arrowe
Went through the last peddlers packe.

13 Ffor him it was well on the packe it fell,
Or his life had found an ende;
And it pierst the skin of his backe within,
Though the packe did stand his frend.

14 Then downe they flung their packes eche one,
And stayde till Robin came:
Quod Robin, I saide ye had better stayde;
Good sooth, ye were to blame.

15 ‘And who art thou? by S. Crispin, I vowe
I’le quickly cracke thy head!’
Cried Robin, Come on, all three, or one;
It is not so soone done as said.

16 My name, by the roode, is Robin Hood,
And this is Scarlett and John;
It is three to three, ye may plainelie see,
Soe now, brave fellowes, laye on.

17 The first peddlars blowe brake Robins bowe
That he had in his hand;
And Scarlett and John, they eche had one
That they unneath could stand.

18 ‘Now holde your handes,’ cride Robin Hood,
‘Ffor ye have got oken staves;
But tarie till wee can get but three,
And a fig for all your braves.’

19 Of the peddlers the first, his name Kit o Thirske,
Said, We are all content;
Soe eche tooke a stake for his weapon, to make
The peddlers to repent.

20 Soe to it they fell, and their blowes did ring well
Uppon the others backes;
And gave the peddlers cause to wish
They had not cast their packes.

21 Yet the peddlers three of their blowes were so free
That Robin began for to rue;
And Scarlett and John had such loade laide on
It made the sunne looke blue.

22 At last Kits oke caught Robin a stroke
That made his head to sound;
He staggerd, and reelde, till he fell on the fielde,
And the trees with him went round.

23 RR’Nrrow holde your handes,’ cride Little John,
And soe did Scarlett eke;
‘Our maister is slaine, I tell you plaine,
He never more will speake.’

24 ‘Now, heaven forefend he come to that ende,’
Said Kit, ‘I love him well;
But lett him learne to be wise in turne,
And not with pore peddlers mell.

25 ‘In my packe, God wot, I a balsame have got
That soone his hurts will heale;’
And into Robin Hoods gaping mouth
He presentlie powrde some deale.

26 ‘Now fare you well, tis best not to tell
How ye three peddlers met;
Or if ye doe, prithee tell alsoe
How they made ye swinke and swett.’

27 Poore Robin in sound they left on the ground,
And hied them to Nottingham,
While Scarlett and John Robin tended on,
Till at length his senses came.

28 Noe soone[r], in haste, did Robin Hood taste
The balsame he had tane,
Than he gan to spewe, and up he threwe
The balsame all againe.

29 And scarlett and John, who were looking on
Their maister as he did lie,
Had their faces besmeard, both eies and beard,
Therewith most piteously.

30 Thus ended that fray; soe beware alwaye
How ye doe challenge foes;
Looke well aboute they are not to stoute,
Or you may have worst of the blowes.

138. Robin Hood and Allen a Dale

1 COME listen to me, you gallants so free,
All you that loves mirth for to hear,
And I will you tell of a bold outlaw,
That lived in Nottinghamshire.
That lived in Nottinghamshire.

2 As Robin Hood in the forrest stood,
All under the green-wood tree,
There was he ware of a brave young man,
As fine as fine might be.

3 The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,
In scarlet fine and gay,
And he did frisk it over the plain,
And chanted a roundelay.

4 As Robin Hood next morning stood,
Amongst the leaves so gay,
There did he espy the same young man
Come drooping along the way.

5 The scarlet he wore the day before,
It was clean cast away;
And every step he fetcht a sigh,
‘Alack and a well a day!’

6 Then stepped forth brave Little John,
And Nick the millers son,
Which made the young man bend his bow,
When as he see them come.

7 ‘Stand off, stand off,’ the young man said,
‘What is your will with me?’
‘You must come before our master straight,
Vnder yon green-wood tree.’

8 And when he came bold Robin before,
Robin askt him courteously,
O hast thou any money to spare
For my merry men and me?

9 ‘I have no money,’ the young man said,
‘But five shillings and a ring;
And that I have kept this seven long years,
To have it at my wedding.

10 ‘Yesterday I should have married a maid,
But she is now from me tane,
And chosen to be an old knights delight,
Whereby my poor heart is slain.’

11 ‘What is thy name?’ then said Robin Hood,
‘Come tell me, without any fail:’
‘By the faith of my body,’ then said the young man,
‘My name it is Allin a Dale.’

12 ‘What wilt thou give me,’ said Robin Hood,
‘In ready gold or fee,
To help thee to thy true-love again,
And deliver her unto thee?’

13 ‘I have no money,’ then quoth the young man,
‘No ready gold nor fee,
But I will swear upon a book
Thy true servant for to be.’

14 ‘How many miles is it to thy true-love?
Come tell me without any guile:’
‘By the faith of my body,’ then said the young man,
‘It is but five little mile.’

15 Then Robin he hasted over the plain,
He did neither stint nor lin,
Vntil he came unto the church
Where Allin should keep his wedding.

16 ‘What dost thou do here?’ the bishop he said,
‘I prethee now tell to me:’
‘I am a bold harper,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘And the best in the north countrey.’

17 ‘O welcome, O welcome,’ the bishop he said,
‘That musick best pleaseth me;’
‘You shall have no musick,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘Till the bride and the bridegroom I see.’

18 With that came in a wealthy knight,
Which was both grave and old,
And after him a finikin lass,
Did shine like glistering gold.

19 ‘This is no fit match,’ quoth bold Robin Hood,
‘That you do seem to make here;
For since we are come unto the church,
The bride she shall chuse her own dear.’

20 Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,
And blew blasts two or three;
When four and twenty bowmen bold
Came leaping over the lee.

21 And when they came into the church-yard,
Marching all on a row,
The first man was Allin a Dale,
To give bold Robin his bow.

22 ‘This is thy true-love,’ Robin he said,
‘Young Allin, as I hear say;
And you shall be married at this same time,
Before we depart away.’

23 ‘That shall not be,’ the bishop he said,
‘For thy word shall not stand;
They shall be three times askt in the church,
As the law is of our land.’

24 Robin Hood pulld off the bishops coat,
And put it upon Little John;
‘By the faith of my body,’ then Robin said,
This cloath doth make thee a man.’

25 When Little John went into the quire,
The people began for to laugh;
He askt them seven times in the church,
Least three times should not be enough.

26 o gives me this maid,’ then said Little John;
Quoth Robin, That do I,
And he that doth take her from Allin a Dale
Full dearly he shall her buy.

27 And thus having ended this merry wedding,
The bride lookt as fresh as a queen,
And so they returnd to the merry green wood,
Amongst the leaves so green.

139. Robin Hood's Progress to Nottingham

1 ROBIN HOOD hee was and a tall young man,
Derry derry down
And fifteen winters old,
And Robin Hood he was a proper young man,
Of courage stout and bold.
Hey down derry derry down

2 Robin Hood he would and to fair Nottingham,
With the general for to dine;
There was he ware of fifteen forresters,
And a drinking bear, ale, and wine.

3 ‘What news? What news?’ said bold Robin Hood;
‘What news, fain wouldest thou know?
Our king hath provided a shooting-match:’
‘And I’m ready with my bow.’

4 ‘We hold it in scorn,’ then said the forresters,
‘That ever a boy so young
Should bear a bow before our king,
That’s not able to draw one string.’

5 ‘I’le hold you twenty marks,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘By the leave of Our Lady,
That I’le hit a mark a hundred rod,
And I’le cause a hart to dye.’

6 ‘We’l hold you twenty mark,’ then said the forresters,
‘By the leave of Our Lady,
Thou hitst not the marke a hundred rod,
Nor causest a hart to dye.’

7 Robin Hood he bent up a noble bow,
And a broad arrow he let flye,
He hit the mark a hundred rod,
And he caused a hart to dy.

8 Some said hee brake ribs one or two,
And some said hee brake three;
The arrow within the hart would not abide,
But it glanced in two or three.

9 The hart did skip, and the hart did leap,
And the hart lay on the ground;
‘The wager is mine,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘If ’twere for a thousand pound.’

10 ‘The wager’s none of thine,’ then said the forresters,
‘Although thou beest in haste;
Take up thy bow, and get thee hence,
Lest wee thy sides do baste.’

11 Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow,
And his broad arrows all amain,
And Robin Hood he laught, and begun to smile,
As hee went over the plain.

12 Then Robin Hood hee bent his noble bow,
And his broad arrows he let flye,
Till fourteen of these fifteen forresters
Vpon the ground did lye.

13 He that did this quarrel first begin
Went tripping over the plain;
But Robin Hood he bent his noble bow,
And hee fetcht him back again.

14 ‘You said I was no archer,’ said Robin Hood,
‘But say so now again;’
With that he sent another arrow
That split his head in twain.

15 ‘You have found mee an archer,’ saith Robin Hood,
‘Which will make your wives for to wring,
And wish that you had never spoke the word,
That I could not draw one string.’

16 The people that lived in fair Nottingham
Came runing out amain,
Supposing to have taken bold Robin Hood,
With the forresters that were slain.

17 Some lost legs, and some lost arms,
And some did lose their blood,
But Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow,
And is gone to the merry green wood.

18 They carryed these forresters into fair Nottingham,
As many there did know;
They digd them graves in their church-yard,
And they buried them all a row.

140. Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

Version A

140 * * *
. . . . . . . .
In faith thou shal[t] haue mine,
And twenty pound in thy purse,
To spend att ale and wine.’

2 ‘Though your clothes are of light Lincolne green,
And mine gray russett and torne,
Yet it doth not you beseeme
To doe an old man scorne.’

3 ‘I scorne thee not, old man,’ says Robin,
‘By the faith of my body;
Doe of thy clothes, thou shalt haue mine,
For it may noe better bee.’

4 But Robin did on this old mans hose,
The were torne in the wrist;
‘When I looke on my leggs,’ said Robin,
‘Then for to laugh I list.’

5 But Robin did on the old mans shooes,
And the were cliitt full cleane;
‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes Litle Iohn,
‘These are good for thornes keene.’

6 But Robin did on the old mans cloake,
And it was torne in the necke;
‘Now, by my faith,’ said William Scarlett,
‘Heere shold be set a specke.’

7 But Robin did on this old mans hood,
Itt gogled on his crowne;
‘When I come into Nottingham,’ said Robin,

146 hood it will lightly downe.

8 ‘But yonder is an outwood,’ said Robin,
‘An outwood all and a shade,
And thither I reede you, my merrymen all,
The ready way to take.

9 ‘And when you heare my litle horne blow,
Come raking all on a rowte
. . . .
. . . .

10 But Robin he lope, and Robin he threw,
He lope over stocke and stone;
But those that saw Robin Hood run
Said he was a liuer old man.

11 [Then Robin set his] horne to his mowth,
A loud blast cold h[e] blow;
Ffull three hundred bold yeomen
Came rakinge all on a row.

12 But Robin cast downe his baggs of bread,
Soe did he his staffe with a face,
And in a doublet of red veluett
This yeoman stood in his place.

13 ‘But bend your bowes, and stroke your strings,
Set the gallow-tree aboute,
And Christs cursse on his heart,’ said Robin,
‘That spares the sheriffe and the sergiant!’

14 When the sheriffe see gentle Robin wold shoote,
He held vp both his hands;
Sayes, Aske, good Robin, and thou shalt haue,
Whether it be house or land.

15 ‘I will neither haue house nor land,’ said Robin,
‘Nor gold, nor none of thy fee,
But I will haue those three squires
To the greene forest with me.

16 ‘Now marry, Gods forbott,’ said the sheriffe,
‘That euer that shold bee;
For why, they be the kings felons,
They are all condemned to dye.’

17 ‘But grant me my askinge,’ said Robin,
‘Or by the faith of my body
Thou shalt be the first man
Shall flower this gallow-tree.’

18 ‘But I wi[ll haue t]hose three squires
. . . .

Version B

1 THERE are twelve months in all the year,
As I hear many men say,
But the merriest month in all the year
Is the merry month of May.

2 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a day,
And there he met a silly old woman,
Was weeping on the way.

3 ‘What news? what news, thou silly old woman?
What news hast thou for me?’
Said she, There’s three squires in Nottingham town
To-day is condemned to die.

4 ‘O have they parishes burnt?’ he said,
‘Or have they ministers slain?
Or have they robbed any virgin,
Or with other men’s wives have lain?’

5 ‘They have no parishes burnt, good sir,
Nor yet have ministwrs slain,
Nor have they robbed any virgin,
Nor with other men’s wives have lain.’

6 ‘O what have they done?’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘I pray thee tell to me:’
‘It’s for slaying of the king’s fallow deer,
Bearing their long bows with thee.’

7 ‘Dost thou not mind, old woman,’ he said,
‘Since thou made me sup and dine?
By the truth of my body,’ quoth bold Robin Hood,
‘You could not tell it in better time.’

8 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a day,
And there he met a silly old palmer,
Was walking along the highway.

9 ‘What news? what news, thou silly old man?
What news, I do thee pray?’
Said he, Three squires in Nottingham town
Are condemnd to die this day.

10 ‘Come change thy apparel with me, old man,
Come change thy apparel for mine;
Here is forty shillings in good silver,
Go drink it in beer or wine.’

11 ‘O thine apparel is good,’ he said,
‘And mine is ragged and torn;
Whereever you go, wherever you ride,
Laugh neer an old man to scorn.’

12 ‘Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,
Come change thy apparel with mine;
Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold,
Go feast thy brethren with wine.’

13 Then he put on the old man’s hat,
It stood full high on the crown:
‘The first bold bargain that I come at,
It shall make thee come down.’

14 Then he put on the old man’s cloak,
Was patchd black, blew, and red;
He thought no shame all the day long
To wear the bags of bread.

15 Then he put on the old man’s breeks,
Was patchd from ballup to side;
‘By the truth of my body,’ bold Robin can say,
‘This man lovd little pride.’

16 Then he put on the old man’s hose,
Were patchd from knee to wrist;
‘By the truth of my body,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘I’d laugh if I had any list.’

17 Then he put on the old man’s shoes,
Were patchd both beneath and aboon;
Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,
It’s good habit that makes a man.

18 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a down,
And there he met with the proud sheriff,
Was walking along the town.

19 ‘O save, O save, O sheriff,’ he said,
‘O save, and you may see!
And what will you give to a silly old man
To-day will your hangman be?’

20 me suits, some suits,’ the sheriff he said,
‘Some suits I’ll give to thee;
Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen
To-day’s a hangman’s fee.’

21 Then Robin he turns him round about,
And jumps from stock to stone;
‘By the truth of my body,’ the sheriff he said,
‘That’s well jumpt, thou nimble old man.’

22 ‘I was neer a hangman in all my life,
Nor yet intends to trade;
But curst be he,’ said bold Robin,
‘That first a hangman was made.

23 ‘I’ve a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,
And a bag for barley and corn;
A bag for bread, and a bag for beef,
And a bag for my little small horn.

24 ‘I have a horn in my pocket,
I got it from Robin Hood,
And still when I set it to my mouth,
For thee it blows little good.’

25 O wind thy horn, thou proud fellow,
Of thee I have no doubt;
I wish that thou give such a blast
Till both thy eyes fall out.’

26 The first loud blast that he did blow,
He blew both loud and shrill;
A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood’s men
Came riding over the hill.

27 The next loud blast that he did give,
He blew both loud and amain,
And quickly sixty of Robin Hood’s men
Came shining over the plain.

28 ‘O who are yon,’ the sheriff he said,
‘Come tripping over the lee?’
‘The’re my attendants,’ brave Robin did say,
‘They’ll pay a visit to thee.’

29 They took the gallows from the slack,
They set it in the glen,
They hangd the proud sheriff on that,
Releasd their own three men.

Version C

1 BOLD Robin Hood ranging the forest all round,
The forest all round ranged he;
O there did he meet with a gay lady,
She came weeping along the highway.

2 ‘Why weep you, why weep you?’ bold Robin he said,
‘What, weep you for gold or fee?
Or do you weep for your maidenhead,
That is taken from your body?’

3 ‘I weep not for gold,’ the lady replyed,
‘Neither do I weep for fee;
Nor do I weep for my maidenhead,
That is taken from my body.’

4 ‘What weep you for then?’ said jolly Robin,
‘I prithee come tell unto me;’
‘Oh! I do weep for my three sons,
For they are all condemned to die.’

5 ‘What church have they robbed?’ said jolly Robin,
‘Or parish-priest have they slain?
What maids have they forced against their will?
Or with other men’s wives have lain?’

6 ‘No church have they robbd,’ this lady replied,
‘Nor parish-priest have they slain;
No maids have they forc’d against their will,
Nor with other men’s wives have lain.’

7 ‘What have they done then?’ said jolly Robin,
‘Come tell me most speedily:’
‘Oh! it is for killing the king’s fallow deer,
And they are all condemned to die.’

8 ‘Get you home, get you home,’ said jolly Robin,
‘Get you home most speedily,
And I will unto fair Nottingham go,
For the sake of the squires all three.’

9 Then bold Robin Hood for Nottingham goes,
For Nottingham town goes he,
O there did he meet with a poor beggar-man,
He came creeping along the highway.

10 ‘What news, what news, thou old beggar-man?
What news, come tell unto me:’
‘O there is weeping and wailing in fair Nottingham,
For the death of the squires all three.’

11 This beggar-man had a coat on his back,
’Twas neither green, yellow, nor red;
Bold Robin Hood thought ’twas no disgrace
To be in a beggar-man’s stead.

12 ‘Come, pull off thy coat, you old beggar-man,
And you shall put on mine;
And forty good shillings I’ll give thee to boot,
Besides brandy, good beer, ale and wine.’

13 Bold Robin Hood then unto Nottingham came,
Unto Nottingham town came he;
O there did he meet with great master sheriff,
And likewise the squires all three.

14 ‘One boon, one boon,’ says jolly Robin,
‘One boon I beg on my knee;
That, as for the deaths of these three squires,
Their hangman I may be.’

15 ‘Soon granted, soon granted,’ says great master sheriff,
‘Soon granted unto thee;
And you shall have all their gay cloathing,
Aye, and all their white money.’

16 ‘O I will have none of their gay cloathing,
Nor none of their white money,
But I’ll have three blasts on my bugle-horn,
That their souls to heaven may flee.’

17 Then Robin Hood mounted the gallows so high,
Where he blew loud and shrill,
Till an hundred and ten of Robin Hood’s men
They came marching all down the green hill.

18 ‘Whose men are they all these?’ says great master sheriff,
‘Whose men are they? tell unto me:’
‘O they are mine, but none of thine,
And they’re come for the squires all three.’

19 ‘O take them, O take them,’ says great master sheriff,
‘O take them along with thee;
For there’s never a man in all Nottingham
Can do the like of thee.’

141. Robin Hood Rescuing Will Stutly

1 WHEN Robin Hood in the green-wood livd,
Derry derry down
Vnder the green-wood tree,
Tidings there came to him with speed,
Tidings for certainty,
Hey down derry derry down

2 That Will Stutly surprized was,
And eke in prison lay;
Three varlets that the sheriff had hired
Did likely him betray.

3 I, and to-morrow hanged must be,
To-morrow as soon as it is day;
But before they could this victory get,
Two of them did Stutly slay.

4 When Robin Hood he heard this news,
Lord! he was grieved sore,
I, and unto his merry men [said],
Who altogether swore,

5 That Will Stutly should rescued be,
And be brought safe again;
Or elde should many a gallant wight
For his sake there be slain.

6 He cloathed himself in scarlet then,
His men were all in green;
A finer show, throughout the world,
In no place could be seen.

7 Good lord! it was a gallant sight
To see them all on a row;
With every man a good broad sword,
And eke a good yew bow.

8 Forth of the green wood are they gone,
Yea, all couragiously,
Resolving to bring Stutly home,
Or every man to die.

9 And when they came the castle neer,
Whereas Will Stutly lay,
‘I hold it good,’ saith Robin Hood,
‘Wee here in ambush stay,

10 ‘And send one forth some news to hear,
To yonder palmer fair,
That stands under the castle-wall;
Some news he may declare.’

11 With that steps forth a brave young man,
Which was of courage bold;
Thus hee did say to the old man:
I pray thee, palmer old,

12 Tell me, if that thou rightly ken,
When must Will Stutly die,
Who is one of bold Robins men,
And here doth prisoner lie?

13 ‘Alack, alass,’ the palmer said,
‘And for ever wo is me!
Will Stutly hanged must be this day,
On yonder gallows-tree.

14 ‘O had his noble master known,
Hee would some succour send;
A few of his bold yeomandree
Full soon would fetch him hence.’

15 ‘I, that is true,’ the young man said;
‘I, that is true,’ said hee;
‘Or, if they were neer to this place,
They soon would set him free.

16 ‘But fare thou well, thou good old man,
Farewell, and thanks to thee;
If Stutly hanged be this day,
Revengd his death will be.’

17 He was no sooner from the palmer gone,
But the gates was opened wide,
And out of the castle Will Stutly came,
Guarded on every side.

18 When hee was forth from the castle come,
And saw no help was nigh,
Thus he did say unto the sheriff,
Thus he said gallantly:

19 Now seeing that I needs must die,
Grant me one boon, says he;
For my noble master nere had man
That yet was hangd on the tree.

20 Give me a sword all in my hand,
And let mee be unbound,
And with thee and thy men I’le fight,
Vntill I lie dead on the ground.

21 But his desire he would not grant,
His wishes were in vain;
For the sheriff had sworn he hanged should be,
And not by the sword be slain.

22 ‘Do but unbind my hands,’ he saies,
‘I will no weapons crave,
And if I hanged be this day,
Damnation let me have.’

23 ‘O no, O no,’ the sheriff he said,
‘Thou shalt on the gallows die,
I, and so shall thy master too,
If ever in me it lie.’

24 ‘O dastard coward!’ Stutly cries,
‘Thou faint-heart pesant slave!
If ever my master do thee meet,
Thou shalt thy paiment have.

25 ‘My noble master thee doth scorn,
And all thy cowardly crew;
Such silly imps unable are
Bold Robin to subdue.’

26 But when he was to the gallows come,
And ready to bid adiew,
Out of a bush leaps Little John,
And steps Will Stutly to.

27 ‘I pray thee, Will, before thou die,
Of thy dear friends take leave;
I needs must borrow him a while,
How say you, master sheriff?’

28 ‘Now, as I live,’ the sheriff he said,
‘That varlet will I know;
Some sturdy rebell is that same,
Therefore let him not go.’

29 With that Little John so hastily
Away cut Stutly’s bands,
And from one of the sheriff his men,
A sword twicht from his hands.

30 ‘Here, Will, here, take thou this same,
Thou canst it better sway;
And here defend thy self a while,
For aid will come straight way.’

31 And there they turnd them back to back,
In the middle of them that day,
Till Robin Hood approached neer,
With many an archer gay.

32 With that an arrow by them flew,
I wist from Robin Hood;
‘Make haste, make haste,’ the sheriff he said,
‘Make haste, for it is good.’

33 The sheriff is gone; his doughty men
Thought it no boot to stay,
But, as their master had them taught,
They run full fast away.

34 ‘O stay, O stay,’ Will Stutly said,
‘Take leave ere you depart;
You nere will catch bold Robin Hood
Vnless you dare him meet.’

35 ‘O ill betide you,’ quoth Robin Hood,
‘That you so soon are gone;
My sword may in the scabbord rest,
For here our work is done.’

36 ‘I little thought when I came here,
When I came to this place,
For to have met with Little John,
Or seen my masters face.’

37 Thus Stutly was at liberty set,
And safe brought from his foe;
‘O thanks, O thanks to my master,
Since here it was not so.’

38 ‘And once again, my fellows,
We shall in the green woods meet,
Where we will make our bow-strings twang,
Musick for us most sweet.’

142. Little John a Begging

Version A

142 * * *
. . . .
. . . .
. . beggar,’ he sayes,
‘With none such fellows as thee.’

2 ‘I am not in iest,’ said Litle Iohn,
‘I sweare all by the roode;
Change with mee,’ said Little Iohn,
‘And I will giue thee some boote.’

3 But he has gotten on this old mans gowne,
It reacht not to his wrist;
‘Christ’s curse on’s hart,’ said Litle Iohn,
‘That thinkes my gowne amisse.’

4 But he has gotten on this old mans shoes,
Are clouted nine fold about;
‘Beshrew his hart,’ said Litle Iohn,
‘That bryer or thorne does doubt.

5 ‘Wilt teach me some phrase of thy begging?’ says Iohn;
‘I pray thee, tell it mee,
How I may be as beggar-like
As any in my companie.’

6 ‘Thou must goe two foote on a staffe,
The third upon a tree;
Full loud that thou must cry and fare,
When nothing ayleth thee.’

7 But Iohn he walket the hills soe high,
Soe did [he] the hills soe browne;
The ready way that he could take
Was towards Nottingham towne.

8 But as he was on the hills soe high,
He mett with palmers three;
Sayes, God you saue, my brethren all,
Now God you saue and see!

9 This seuen yeere I haue you sought;
Before I cold neuer you see!
Said they, Wee had leuer such a cankred carle
Were neuer in our companie.

10 But one of them tooke Litle Iohn on his head,
The blood ran over his eye;
Little Iohn turned him twise about
. . . .

11 ‘If I . . . .
As I haue beene but one day,
I shold haue purcchased three of the best churches
That stands by any highway.’

Version B

1 ALL you that delight to spend some time
With a hey down down a down down
A merry song for to sing,
Vnto me draw neer, and you shall hear
How Little John went a begging.

2 As Robin Hood walked the forrest along,
And all his yeomandree,
Sayes Robin, Some of you must a begging go,
And, Little John, it must be thee.

3 Sayes John, If I must a begging go,
I will have a palmers weed,
With a staff and coat, and bags of all sort,
The better then I shall speed.

4 Come, give me now a bag for my bread,
And another for my cheese,
And one for a peny, when as I get any,
That nothing I may leese.

5 Now Little John he is a begging gone,
Seeking for some relief;
But of all the beggers he met on the way,
Little John he was the chief.

6 But as he was walking himself alone,
Four beggers he chanced to spy,
Some deaf, and some blind, and some came behind;
Says John, Here’s brave company!

7 ‘Good-morrow,’ said John, ’My brethren dear,
Good fortune I had you to see;
Which way do you go? pray let me know,
For I want some company.

8 ‘O what is here to do?’ then said Little John,
‘Why rings all these bells?’ said he;
‘What dog is a hanging? come, let us be ganging,
That we the truth may see.’

9 ‘Here is no dog a hanging,’ then one of them said,
‘Good fellow, we tell unto thee;
But here is one dead wil give us cheese and bred,
And it may be one single peny.’

10 ‘We have brethren in London,’ another he said,
‘So have we in Coventry,
In Barwick and Dover, and all the world over,
But nere a crookt carril like thee.

11 ‘Therefore stand thee back, thou crooked carel,
And take that knock on the crown;’
‘Nay,’ said Little John, ‘I’le not yet be gone,
For a bout will I have with you round.

12 ‘Now have at you all,’ then said Little John,
‘If you be so full of your blows;
Fight on, all four, and nere give ore,
Whether you be friends or foes.’

13 John nipped the dumb, and made him to rore,
And the blind that could not see,
And he that a cripple had been seven years,
He made him run faster then he.

14 And flinging them all against the wall,
With many a sturdie bang,
It made John sing, to hear the gold ring,
Which against the walls cryed twang.

15 Then he got out of the beggers cloak
Three hundred pound in gold;
‘Good fortune had I,’ then said Little John,
‘Such a good sight to behold.’

16 But what found he in a beggers bag,
But three hundred pound and three?
‘If I drink water while this doth last,
Then an ill death may I dye!

17 d my begging-trade I will now give ore,
My fortune hath bin so good;
Therefore I’le not stay, but I will away
To the forrest of merry Sherwood.’

18 And when to the forrest of Sherwood he came,
He quickly there did see
His master good, bold Robin Hood,
And all his company.

19 ‘What news? What news?’ then said Robin Hood,
‘Come, Little John, tell unto me;
How hast thou sped with thy beggers trade?
For that I fain would see.’

20 ‘No news but good,’ then said Little John,
‘With begging ful wel I have sped;
Six hundred and three I have here for thee,
In silver and gold so red.’

21 Then Robin took Little John by the hand,
And danced about the oak-tree:
‘If we drink water while this doth last,
Then an il death may we die!’

22 So to conclude my merry new song,
All you that delight it to sing,
’Tis of Robin Hood, that archer good,
And how Little John went a begging.

143. Robin Hood and the Bishop

1 COME, gentlemen all, and listen a while,
Hey down down an a down
And a story I’le to you unfold;
I’le tell you how Robin Hood served the Bishop,
When he robbed him of his gold.

2 As it fell out on a sun-shining day,
When Phebus was in his prime,
Then Robin Hood, that archer good,
In mirth would spend some time.

3 And as he walked the forrest along,
Some pastime for to spy,
There was he aware of a proud bishop,
And all his company.

4 ‘O what shall I do?’ said Robin Hood then,
‘If the Bishop he doth take me,
No mercy he’l show unto me, I know,
But hanged I shall be.’

5 Then Robin was stout, and turnd him about,
And a little house there he did spy;
And to an old wife, for to save his life,
He loud began for to cry.

6 ‘Why, who art thou?’ said the old woman,
‘Come tell it to me for good:’
‘I am an out-law, as many do know,
My name it is Robin Hood.

7 ‘And yonder’s the Bishop and all his men,
And if that I taken be,
Then day and night he’l work me spight,
And hanged I shall be.’

8 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ said the old wife,
‘As thou dost seem to be,
I’le for thee provide, and thee I will hide
From the Bishop and his company.

9 ‘For I well remember, one Saturday night
Thou bought me both shoos and hose;
Therefore I’le provide thy person to hide,
And keep thee from thy foes.’

10 ‘Then give me soon thy coat of gray,
And take thou my mantle of green;
Thy spindle and twine to me resign,
And take thou my arrows so keen.’

11 And when that Robin Hood was so araid,
He went straight to his company;
With his spindle and twine, he oft lookt behind
For the Bishop and his company.

12 ‘O who is yonder,’ quoth Little John,
‘That now comes over the lee?
An arrow I will at her let flie,
So like an old witch looks she.’

13 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin then,
‘And shoot not thy arrows so keen;
I am Robin Hood, thy master good,
And quickly it shall be seen,’

14 The Bishop he came to the old womans house,
And he called with furious mood,
‘Come let me soon see, and bring unto me,
That traitor Robin Hood.’

15 The old woman he set on a milk-white steed,
Himselfe on a dapple-gray,
And for joy he had got Robin Hood,
He went laughing all the way.

16 But as they were riding the forrest along,
The Bishop he chanc’d for to see
A hundred brave bow-men bold
Stand under the green-wood tree.

17 ‘O who is yonder,’ the Bishop then said,
‘That’s ranging within yonder wood?’
‘Marry,’ says the old woman, ‘I think it to be
A man calld Robin Hood.’

18 ‘Why, who art thou,’ the Bishop he said,
‘Which I have here with me?’
‘Why, I am an old woman, thou cuckoldly bishop;
Lift up my leg and see.’

19 ‘Then woe is me,’ the Bishop he said,
‘That ever I saw this day!’
He turnd hum about, but Robin so stout
Calld him, and bid him stay.

20 Then Robin took hold of the Bishops horse,
And ty’d him fast to a tree;
Then Little John smil’d his master upon,
For joy of that company.

21 Robin Hood took his mantle from ’s back,
And spread it upon the ground,
And out of the Bishops portmantle he
Soon told five hundred pound.

22 ‘So now let him go,’ said Robin Hood;
Said Little John, That may not be;
For I vow and protest he shall sing us a mass
Before that he goe from me.

23 Then Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand,
And bound him fast to a tree,
And made him sing a mass, God wot,
To him and his yeomandree.

24 And then they brought him through the wood,
And set him on his dapple-gray,
And gave the tail within his hand,
And bade him for Robin Hood pray.

144. Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

Version A

1 SOME they will talk of bold Robin Hood,
And some of barons bold,
But I’ll tell you how he servd the Bishop of Hereford,
When he robbed him of his gold.

2 As it befel in merry Barnsdale,
And under the green-wood tree,
The Bishop of Hereford was to come by,
With all his company.

3 ‘Come, kill a venson,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘Come, kill me a good fat deer;
The Bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day,
And he shall pay well for his cheer.

4 ‘We’ll kill a fat venson,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘And dress it by the highway-side;
And we will watch the Bishop narrowly,
Lest some other way he should ride.’

5 Robin Hood dressd himself in shepherd’s attire,
With six of his men also;
And, when the Bishop of Hereford came by,
They about the fire did go.

6 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said the Bishop,
‘Or for whom do you make this a-do?
Or why do you kill the king’s venson,
When your company is so few?’

7 ‘We are shepherds,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘And we keep sheep all the year,
And we are disposed to be merry this day,
And to kill of the king’s fat deer.’

8 ‘You are brave fellows!’ said the Bishop,
‘And the king of your doings shall know;
Therefore make haste and come along with me,
For before the king you shall go.’

9 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘O pardon, I thee pray!
For it becomes not your lordship’s coat
To take so many lives away.’

10 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ says the Bishop,
‘No pardon I thee owe;
Therefore make haste, and come along with me,
For before the king you shall go.’

11 Then Robin set his back against a tree,
And his foot against a thorn,
And from underneath his shepherd’s coat
He pulld out a bugle-horn.

12 He put the little end to his mouth,
And a loud blast did he blow,
Till threescore and ten of bold Robin’s men
Came running all on a row;

13 All making obeysance to bold Robin Hood;
’Twas a comely sight for to see:
‘What is the matter, master,’ said Little John,
‘That you blow so hastily?’

14 ‘O here is the Bishop of Hereford,
And no pardon we shall have:’
‘Cut off his head, master,’ said Little John,
‘And throw him into his grave.’

15 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said the Bishop,
‘O pardon, I thee pray!
For if I had known it had been you,
I’d have gone some other way.’

16 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ said Robin Hood,
‘No pardon I thee owe;
Therefore make haste and come along with me,
For to merry Barnsdale you shall go.’

17 Then Robin he took the Bishop by the hand,
And led him to merry Barnsdale;
He made him to stay and sup with him that night,
And to drink wine, beer, and ale.

18 ‘Call in the reckoning,’ said the Bishop,
‘For methinks it grows wondrous high:’
‘Lend me your purse, Bishop,’ said Little John,
‘And I’ll tell you bye and bye.’

19 Then Little John took the bishop’s cloak,
And spread it upon the ground,
And out of the bishop’s portmantua
He told three hundred pound.

20 ‘Here’s money enough, master,’ said Little John,
‘And a comely sight ’tis to see;
It makes me in charity with the Bishop,
Tho he heartily loveth not me.’

21 Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand,
And he caused the music to play,
And he made the Bishop to dance in his boots,
And glad he could so get away.

Version B

1 SOME talk of lords, and some talk of lairds,
And some talk of barrons bold,
But I’ll tell you a story of bold Robin Hood,
How he robbed the Bishop of his gold.

2 ‘Cause kill us a venison,’ sayes Robin Hood,
‘And we’ll dress it by the high-way side,
And we will watch narrowly for the Bishop,
Lest some other way he do ride.’

3 ‘Now who is this,’ sayes the Bishop,
‘That makes so boldly here
To kill the king’s poor small venison,
And so few of his company here?’

4 ‘We are shepherds,’ says Robin Hood,
‘And do keep sheep all the year;
And we thought it fit to be merry on a day,
And kill one of the king’s fallow deer.’

5 ‘Thou art a bold fellow,’ the Bishop replyes,
‘And your boldness you do show;
Make hast, make hast, and go along with me,
For the king of your doings shall know.’

6 He leand his back unto a brae,
His foot against a thorn,
And out from beneath his long shepherds coat
He pulled a blowing-horn.

7 He put his horn in to his mouth,
And a snell blast he did blow,
Till four and twenty of bold Robins men
Came riding up all in a row.

8 ‘Come, give us a reckoning,’ says the Bishop,
‘For I think you drink wondrous large:’
‘Come, give me your purse,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘And I will pay all your charge.’

9 He pulled off his long shepherds coat,
And he spread it on the ground,
And out of the Bishops long trunk-hose,
He pulled a hundred pound.

10 ‘O master,’ quoth Little John,
‘It’s a very bony sight for to see;
It makes me to favour the Bishop,
Tho in heart he loves not me.’

11 ‘Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood,
‘Come, sing us a mass all anon;
Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood,
‘Take a kick in the a--se, and be gone.’

145. Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

Version A

1 NOW list you, lithe you, gentlemen,
A while for a litle space,
And I shall tell you how Queene Katterine
Gott Robin Hood his grace.

2 Gold taken from the kings harbengers
Seldome times hath beene seene,
. . . .
. . . .

3 . . . .
‘Queene Katherine, I say to thee;’
‘That’s a princly wager,’ quoth Queene Katherine,
‘Betweene your grace and me.

4 ‘Where must I haue mine archers?’ says Queene Katherine;
‘You haue the flower of archery:’
‘Now take your choice, dame,’ he sayes,
‘Thorow out all England free.

5 ‘Yea from North Wales to Westchester,
And also to Couentry;
And when you haue chosen the best you can,
The wager must goe with mee.’

6 ‘If that prooue,’ says Queene Katherine,
‘Soone that wilbe tride and knowne;
Many a man counts of another mans pursse,
And after looseth his owne.’

7 The queene is to her palace gone,
To her page thus shee can say:
Come hither to me, Dicke Patrinton,
Trusty and trew this day.

8 Thou must bring me the names of my archers all,
All strangers must they bee,
Yea from North Wales to West Chester,
And alsoe to Couentrie.

9 Commend me to Robin Hood, says Queene Katherine,
And alsoe to Litle John,
And specially to Will Scarlett,
Ffryar Tucke and Maid Marryan.

10 Robin Hood we must call Loxly,
And Little John the Millers sonne;
Thus wee then must change their names,
They must be strangers euery one.

11 Commend mee to Robin Hood, sayes Queene Katherine,
And marke, page, what I say;
In London they must be with me
[Vpon St Georges day.]

12 . . . .
‘These words hath sent by me;
Att London you must be with her
Vpon St Georg[e]s day.

13 ‘Vpon St Georg[e]s day att noone
Att London needs must you bee;
Shee wold not misse your companie
For all the gold in Cristinty.

14 ‘Shee hath tane a shooting for your sake,
The greatest in Christentie,
And her part you must needs take
Against her prince, Henery.

15 ‘Shee sends you heere her gay gold ring
A trew token for to bee;
And, as you are [a] banisht man,
Shee trusts to sett you free.’

16 ‘And I loose that wager,’ says bold Robin Hoode,
‘I’le bring mony to pay for me;
And wether that I win or loose,
On my queenes part I will be.’

17 In sommer time when leaues grow greene,
And flowers are fresh and gay,
Then Robin Hood he deckt his men
Eche one in braue array.

18 He deckt his men in Lincolne greene,
Himselfe in scarlett red;
Fayre of theire brest then was it seene
When his siluer armes were spread.

19 With hattis white and fethers blacke,
And bowes and arrowes keene,
And thus he ietted towards louly London,
To present Queene Katherine.

20 But when they cam to louly London,
They kneeled vpon their knee;
Sayes, God you saue, Queene Katherine,
And all your dignitie!

21 . . . . . . of my guard,’
Thus can King Henry say,
‘And those that wilbe of Queene Katerines side,
They are welcome to me this day.’

22 ‘Then come hither to me, Sir Richard Lee,
Thou art a knight full good;
Well it is knowen from thy pedygree
Thou came from Gawiins blood.

23 ‘Come hither, Bishopp of Hereford,’ quoth Queene Katherine-+--+-
A good preacher I watt was hee-+--+-
‘And stand thou heere vpon a odd side,
On my side for to bee.’

24 ‘I like not that,’ sayes the bishopp then,
‘By faikine of my body,
For if I might haue my owne will,
On the kings I wold bee.’

25 ‘What will thou be[t] against vs,’ says Loxly then,
‘And stake it on the ground?’
‘That will I doe, fine fellow,’ he says,
‘And it drawes to fiue hundreth pound.’

26 ‘There is a bett,’ says Loxly then;
‘Wee’le stake it merrily;’
But Loxly knew full well in his mind
And whose that gold shold bee.

27 Then the queenes archers they shot about
Till it was three and three;
Then the lady’s gaue a merry shout,
Sayes, Woodcocke, beware thine eye!

28 ‘Well, gam and gam,’ then quoth our king,
‘The third three payes for all;’
Then Robine rounded with our queene,
Says, The kings part shall be small.

29 Loxly puld forth a broad arrowe,
He shott it vnder hand,
. . s vnto .
. . .

30 . . . .
‘For once he vndidd mee;
If I thought it had beene bold Robin Hoode,
I wold not haue betted one peny.

31 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ says the bishopp againe;
‘Once I knew him to soone;
He made me say a masse against my will,
Att two a clocke in the afternoone.

32 ‘He bound me fast vnto a tree,
Soe did he my merry men;
He borrowed ten pound against my will,
But he neuer paid me againe.’

33 ‘What and if I did?’ says bold Robin Hood,
‘Of that masse I was full faine;
In recompence, befor king and queene
Take halfe of thy gold againe.’

34 ‘I thanke thee for nothing,’ says the bishopp,
‘Thy large gift to well is knowne,
That will borrow a mans mony against his will,
And pay him againe with his owne.’

35 ‘What if he did soe?’ says King Henery,
‘For that I loue him neuer the worsse;
Take vp thy gold againe, bold Robin Hood,
And put [it] in thy pursse.

36 ‘If thou woldest leaue thy bold outlawes,
And come and dwell with me,
Then I wold say thou art welcome, bold Robin Hood,
The flower of archery.’

37 ‘I will not leaue my bold outlawes
For all the gold in Christentie;
In merry Sherwood I’le take my end,
Vnder my trusty tree.

38 ‘And gett your shooters, my leeig[e], where you will,
For in faith you shall haue none of me;
And when Queene Katherine puts up her f[inger]
Att her Graces commandement I’le bee.’

Version B

1 GOLD tane from the kings harbengers,
Down a down a down
As seldome hath been seen,
Down a down a down
And carried by bold Robin Hood
For a present to the queen.
Down a down a down

2 ‘If that I live a year to an end,’
Thus gan Queen Katherin say,
‘Bold Robin Hood, I will be thy friend,
And all thy yeomen gay.’

3 The queen is to her chamber gone,
As fast as she can wen;
She cals unto her lovely page,
His name was Richard Patringten.

4 ‘Come hither to mee, thou lovely page,
Come thou hither to mee;
For thou must post to Notingham,
As fast as thou canst dree.

5 ‘And as thou goest to Notingham,
Search all those English wood;
Enquire of one good yeoman or another
That can tell thee of Robin Hood.’

6 Sometimes he went, sometimes hee ran,
As fast as he could win;
And when hee came to Notingham,
There he took up his inne.

7 And when he came to Notingham,
And had took up his inne,
He calls for a pottle of Renish wine,
And drank a health to his queen.

8 There sat a yeoman by his side;
‘Tell mee, sweet page,’ said hee,
‘What is thy business or the cause,
So far in the North Country?’

9 ‘This is my business and the cause,
Sir, I’le tell it you for good,
To inquire of one good yeoman or another
To tell mee of Robin Hood.’

10 ‘I’le get my horse betime in the morn,
By it be break of day,
And I will shew thee bold Robin Hood,
And all his yeomen gay.’

11 When that he came at Robin Hoods place,
Hee fell down on his knee:
‘Queen Katherine she doth greet you well,
She greets you well by mee.

12 ‘She bids you post to fair London court,
Not fearing any thing;
For there shall be a little sport,
And she hath sent you her ring.’

13 Robin took his mantle from his back-+--+-
It was of the Lincoln green-+--+-
And sent it by this lovely page,
For a present unto the queen.

14 In summer time, when leaves grow green,
It is a seemly sight to see
How Robin Hood himself had drest,
And all his yeomandry.

15 He cloathed his men in Lincoln green,
And himself in scarlet red,
Black hats, white feathers, all alike;
Now bold Robin Hood is rid.

16 And when he came at Londons court,
Hee fell downe on his knee:
‘Thou art welcome, Locksly,’ said the queen,
‘And all thy good yeomendree.’

17 The king is into Finsbury field,
Marching in battel ray,
And after follows bold Robin Hood,
And all his yeomen gay.

18 ‘Come hither, Tepus,’ said the king,
‘Bow-bearer after mee,
Come measure mee out with this line
How long our mark shall be.’

19 ‘What is the wager?’ said the queen,
‘That must I now know here:’
‘Three hundred tun of Renish wine,
Three hundred tun of beer.

20 ‘Three hundred of the fattest harts
That run on Dallom lee;
That’s a princely wager,’ said the king,
‘That needs must I tell thee.’

21 With that bespake one Clifton then,
Full quickly and full soon;
‘Measure no mark for us, most soveraign leige,
Wee’l shoot at sun and moon.’

22 ‘Ful fifteen score your mark shall be,
Ful fifteen score shall stand;’
‘I’le lay my bow,’ said Clifton then,
‘I’le cleave the willow wand.’

23 With that the kings archers led about,
While it was three and none;
With that the ladies began to shout,
Madam, your game is gone!

24 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries,
‘I crave on my bare knee;
Is there any knight of your privy counsel
Of Queen Katherines part will be?

25 ‘Come hither to mee, Sir Richard Lee,
Thou art a knight full good;
For I do know by thy pedigree
Thou springst from Goweres blood.

26 ‘Come hither to me, thou Bishop of Herefordshire’-+--+-
For a noble priest was he-+--+-
‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then,
‘I’le not bet one peny.

27 ‘The king has archers of his own,
Full ready and full light,
And these be strangers every one,
No man knows what they height.’

28 ‘What wilt thou bet,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Thou seest our game the worse?’
‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then,
‘All the mony within my purse.’

29 ‘What is in thy purse?’ said Robin Hood,
‘Throw it down on the ground;’
‘Fifteen score nobles,’ said the bishop then,
‘It’s neer an hundred pound.’

30 Robin Hood took his bagge from his side,
And threw it down on the green;
William Scadlocke went smiling away,
‘I know who this mony must win.’

31 With that the queens archers led about,
While it was three and three;
With that the ladies gave a shout,
‘Woodcock, beware thyn ee!’

32 ‘It is three and three, now,’ said the king,
‘The next three pays for all;’
Robin Hood went and whispered to the queen,
‘The kings part shall be but small.’

33 Robin Hood he led about,
He shot it under hand,
And Clifton, with a bearing arrow,
He clave the willow wand.

34 And little Midge, the Miller’s son,
Hee shot not much the worse;
He shot within a finger of the prick;
‘Now, bishop, beware thy purse!’

35 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries,
‘I crave on my bare knee,-+--+-
That you will angry be with none
That is of my party.’

36 ‘They shall have forty days to come,
And forty days to go,
And three times forty to sport and play;
Then welcome friend or fo.’

37 ‘Then thou art welcome, Robin Hood,’ said the queen,
‘And so is Little John,
So is Midge, the Miller’s son;
Thrice welcome every one.’

38 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the king now said;
‘For it was told to mee
That he was slain in the pallace-gate,
So far in the North Country.’

39 ‘Is this Robin Hood,’ said the bishop then,
‘As I see well to be?
Had I knowne that had been that bold outlaw,
I would not have bet one peny.

40 ‘Hee took me late one Saturday at night,
And bound mee fast to a tree,
And made mee sing a mass, God wot,
To him and his yeomendree.’

41 ‘What and if I did?’ says Robin Hood,
‘Of that mass I was full fain;
For recompense to thee,’ he says,
‘Here’s half thy gold again.’

42 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ saies Little John,
‘Master, that shall not be;
We must give gifts to the kings officers;
That gold will serve thee and mee.’

Version C

1 STOUT Robin Hood, a most lusty out-law,
As ever yet lived in this land,
As ever yet lived in this land.
His equal I’m sure you never yet saw,
So valiant was he of his hand,
So valiant was he of his hand.

2 No archers could ever compare with these three,
Although from us they are gone;
The like was never, nor never will be,
To Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.

3 Many stout robberies by these men were done,
Within this our kingdom so wide;
Vpon the highway much treasure they have won,
No one that his purse ere deny’d.

4 Great store of money they from the kings men
Couragiously did take away;
Vnto fair Queen Katherine they gave it again,
Who to them these words did say.

5 If that I live but another fair year,
Kind Robin Hood, said the fair queen,
The love for this courtesie that I thee bear,
Assure thy self it shall be seen.

6 Brave Robin Hood courteously thanked her Grace,
And so took leave of the queen;
He with his bold archers then hied him apace,
In summer time, to the woods green.

7 ‘Now wend we together, my merry men all,
To the green wood to take up our stand:’
These archers were ready at Robin Hoods call,
With their bent bows all in their hand.

8 ‘Come, merrily let us now valiantly go
With speed unto the green wood,
And there let us kill a stout buck or a do,
For our master, Robin Hood.’

9 At London must now be a game of shooting,
Where archers should try their best skill;
It was so commanded by their gracious king;
The queen then thought to have her will.

10 Her little foot-page she sent with all speed,
To find out stout Robin Hood,
Who in the North bravely did live, as we read,
With his bow-men in the green wood.

11 When as this young page unto the North came,
He staid under a hill at his inn;
Within the fair town of sweet Nottingham,
He there to enquire did begin.

12 The page then having enquired aright
The way unto Robin Hoods place,
As soon as the page had obtained of him sight,
He told him strange news from her Grace.

13 ‘Her Majestie praies you to haste to the court,’
And therewithall shewd him her ring;
We must not delay his swift haste to this sport,
Which then was proclaimd by the king.

14 Then Robin Hood hies him with all speed he may,
With his fair men attired in green,
And towards fair London he then takes his way;
His safety lay all on the queen.

15 Now Robin Hood welcome was then to the court,
Queen Katharine so did allow;
Now listen, my friends, and my song shal report
How the queen performed her vow.

16 The king then went marching in state with his peers
To Finsbury field most gay,
Where Robin Hood follows him, void of all fears,
With his lusty brave shooters that day.

17 The king did command that the way should be
Straight mete with a line that was good;
The answer was made to him presently,
By lusty bold Robin Hood.

18 ‘Let there be no mark measured,’ then said he soon;
‘I,’ so said Scarlet and John,
‘For we will shoot to the sun or the moon;
We scorn to be outreacht with none.’

19 ‘What shall the wager be?’ then said the queen,
‘Pray tell me before you begin:’
‘Three hundred tuns of good wine shall be seen,
And as much of strong bear for to win.

20 ‘Three hundred of lusty fat bucks, sweet, beside,
Shall now be our royal lay:’
Quoth Robin Hood, What ere does betide,
I’le bear this brave purchase away.

21 ‘Full fifteenscore,’ saith the king, ’it shall be;’
Then straight did the bow-men begin,
And Robin Hoods side gave them leave certainly
A while some credit to win.

22 The royal queen Katharine aloud cried she,
Is here no lord, nor yet knight,
That will take my part in this bold enmity?
Sir Robert Lee, pray do me right.

23 Then to the bold Bishop of Herefordshire
Most mildly spoke our good queen;
But he straight refused to lay any more,
Such ods on their parties were seen.

24 ‘What wilt thou bet, seeing our game is the worse?’
Unto him then said Robin Hood:
‘Why then,’ quoth the bishop, a+ell that’s in my purse;’
Quoth Scarlet, That bargain is good.

25 ‘A hundred good pounds there is in the same,’
The bishop unto him did say;
Then said Robin Hood, Now here’s for the game,
And to bear this your money away.

26 Then did the kings archer his arrows command
Most bravely and with great might,
But brave jolly Robin shot under his hand,
And then did hit the mark right.

27 And Clifton he then, with his arrow so good,
The willow-wood cleaved in two;
The Miller’s young son came not short, by the rood,
His skill he most bravely did show.

28 Thus Robin Hood and his crew won the rich prize,
From all archers that there could be;
Then loudly unto the king Queen Katherine cries,
Forgive all my company!

29 The king then did say, that for forty daies,
Free leave then to come or go,
For any man there, though he got the praise,
‘Be he friend,’ quoth he, ’or be he foe.’

30 Then quoth the queen, Welcome thou art, Robin Hood,
And welcome, brave bow-men all three;
Then straight quoth the king, I did hear, by the rood,
That slain he was in the countrey.

31 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the bishop did say,
‘Is this Robin Hood certainly?
He made me to say him mass last Saturday,
To him and his bold yeomendry.’

32 ‘Well,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’in requital thereof,
Half thy gold I give unto thee;’
‘Nay, nay,’ then said Little John in a scoff,
‘’Twill serue us ith’ North Countrey.’

33 Then Robin Hood pardon had straight of the king,
And so had they every one;
The fame of these days most loudly does ring,
Of Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.

34 Great honours to Robin Hood after were done,
As stories for certain do say;
The king made him Earl of fair Huntington,
Whose fame will never decay.

35 Thus have you heard the fame of these men,
Good archers they were every one;
We never shal see the like shooters again
As Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.

146. Robin Hood's Chase

1 COME you gallants all, to you I do call,
With a hey down down a down down
That now is within this place,
For a song I will sing of Henry the king,
How he did Robin Hood chase.

2 Queen Katherine she a match then did make,
As plainly doth appear,
For three hundred tun of good red wine,
And three hundred tun of beer.

3 But yet her archers she had to seek,
With their bows and arrows so good;
But her mind it was bent, with a good intent,
To send for bold Robin Hood.

4 But when bold Robin Hood he came there,
Queen Katherine she did say,
Thou art welcome, Locksley, said the queen,
And all thy yeomen gay.

5 For a match at shooting I have made,
And thou my part must be:
‘If I miss the mark, be it light or dark,
Then hanged I will be.’

6 But when the game came to be playd,
Bold Robin he then drew nigh;
With his mantle of green, most brave to be seen,
He let his arrows fly.

7 And when the game it ended was,
Bold Robin wan it with a grace,
But after, the king was angry with him,
And vowed he would him chase.

8 What though his pardon granted was
While he with them did stay,
But yet the king was vexed at him
When as he was gone his way.

9 Soon after the king from the court did hie,
In a furious angry mood,
And often enquire, both far and near,
After bold Robin Hood.

10 But when the king to Nottingham came,
Bold Robin was then in the wood;
‘O come now,’ said he, a+end let me see
Who can find me bold Robin Hood.’

11 But when that Robin Hood he did hear
The king had him in chase,
Then said Little John, Tis time to be gone,
And go to some other place.

12 Then away they went from merry Sherwood,
And into Yorkshire he did hie,
And the king did follow, with a hoop and a hallow,
But could not come him nigh.

13 Yet jolly Robin he passed along,
He [went] straight to Newcastle town,
And there stayed he hours two or three,
And then he for Berwick was gone.

14 When the king he did see how Robin did flee,
He was vexed wondrous sore;
With a hoop and a hallow he vowed to follow,
And take him, or never give ore.

15 ‘Come now, let’s away,’ then cries Little John,
‘Let any man follow that dare;
To Carlile wee’l hie with our company,
And so then to Lancaster.’

16 From Lancaster then to Chester they went,
And so did king Henery;
But Robin away, for he durst not stay,
For fear of some treachery.

17 Saies Robin, Come, let us to London go,
To see our noble queens face;
It may be she wants our company,
Which makes the king so us chase.

18 When Robin he came Queen Katherine before,
He fell upon his knee:
‘If it please your Grace, I am come to this place,
To speak with king Henery.’

19 Queen Katherine she answered bold Robin again,
The king is gone to merry Sherwood;
And when he went he to me did say
He would go seek Robin Hood.

20 RR’Trrhen fare you well, my gracious queen,
For to sherwood I will hie apace;
For fain would I see what he would with me,
If I could but meet his Grace.’

21 But when King Henery he came home,
Full weary, and vexed in mind,
When he did hear Robin had been there,
He blamed Dame Fortune unkind.

22 ‘You are welcome home,’ Queen Katherine cried,
‘Henry, my soveraign liege;
Bold Robin Hood that archer good,
Your person hath been to seek.’

23 But when King Henry he did hear
That Robin had been there him to seek,
This answer he gave, He’s a cunning knave,
For I have sought him this whole three weeks.

24 ‘A boon! a boon!’ Queen Katherine cried,
‘I beg it here on your Grace,
To pardon his life, and seek no more strife:’
And so endeth Robin Hoods chase.

147. Robin Hood's Golden Prize

1 I HAVE heard talk of bold Robin Hood,
Derry derry down
And of brave Little John,
Of Fryer Tuck, and Will Scarlet,
Loxley, and Maid Marion.
Hey down derry derry down

2 But such a tale as this before
I think there was never none;
For Robin Hood disguised himself,
And to the wood is gone.

3 Like to a fryer, bold Robin Hood
Was accoutered in his array;
With hood, gown, beads and cricifix,
He past upon the way.

4 He had not gone [past] miles two or three,
But it was his chance to spy
Two lusty priests, clad all in black,
Come riding gallantly.

5 ‘Benedicete,’ then said Robin Hood,
‘Some pitty on me take;
Cross you my hand with a silver groat,
For Our dear Ladies sake.

6 ‘For I have been wandring all this day,
And nothing could I get;
Not so much as one poor cup of drink,
Nor bit of bread to eat.’

7 ‘Now, by my holydame,’ the priests repli’d,
‘We never a peny have;
For we this morning have been robd,
And could no mony save.’

8 ‘I am much afraid,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘That you both do tell a lye;
And now before that you go hence,
I am resolvd to try.’

9 When as the priests heard him say so,
Then they rode away amain;
But Robin Hood betook him to his heels,
And soon overtook them again.

10 Then Robin Hood laid hold of them both,
And pulld them down from their horse:
‘O spare us, fryer!’ the priests cry’d out,
‘On us have remorse!’

11 ‘You said you had no mony,’ quoth he,
‘Wherefore, without delay,
We three will fall down on our knees,
And for mony we will pray.’

12 The priests they could not him gainsay,
But down they kneeled with speed;
‘Send us, O send us,’ then quoth they,
‘Some mony to serve our need.’

13 The priests did pray with mournful chear,
Sometimes their hands did wring,
Sometimes they wept and cried aloud,
Whilst Robin did merrily sing.

14 When they had been praying an hours space,
The priests did still lament;
Then quoth bold Robin, Now let’s see
What mony heaven hath us sent.

15 We will be sharers now all alike
Of the mony that we have;
And there is never a one of us
That his fellows shall deceive.

16 The priests their hands in their pockets put,
But mony would find none:
‘We’l search our selves,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Each other, one by one.’

17 Then Robin took pains to search them both,
And he found good store of gold;
Five hundred peeces presently
Vpon the grass was told.

18 ‘Here is a brave show,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Such store of gold to see,
And you shall each one have a part,
Cause you prayed so heartily.’

19 He gave them fifty pound a-peece,
And the rest for himself did keep;
The priests durst not speak one word,
Bur they sighed wondrous deep.

20 With that the priests rose up from their knees,
Thinking to have parted so;
‘Nay, stay,’ said Robin Hood, ’one thing more
I have to say ere you go.

21 ‘You shall be sworn,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘Vpon this holy grass,
That you will never tell lies again,
Which way soever you pass.

22 ‘The second oath that you here must take,
All the days of your lives
You never shall tempt maids to sin,
Nor lye with other mens wives.

23 ‘The last oath you shall take, it is this,
Be charitable to the poor;
Say you have met with a holy fryer,
And I desire no more.’

24 He set them upon their horses again,
And away then they did ride;
And hee returnd to the merry green-wood,
With great joy, mirth and pride.

148. The Noble Fisherman or Robin Hood's Preferment

1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green,
When they doe grow both green and long,
Of a bould outlaw, calld Robin Hood,
It is of him I sing this song.

2 When the lilly leafe and the elephant
Doth bud and spring with a merry good cheere,
This outlaw was weary of the wood-side,
And chasing of the fallow deere.

3 ‘The fishermen brave more mony have
Then any merchant, two or three;
Therefore I will to Scarborough goe,
That I a fisherman brave may be.’

4 This outlaw calld his merry men all,
As they sate under the green-wood tree:
‘If any of you have gold to spend,
I pray you heartily spend it with me.

5 ‘Now,’ quoth Robin, I’le to Scarborough goe,
It seemes to be a very faire day;’
Who tooke up his inne at a widdow-womans house,
Hard by upon the water gray.

6 Who asked of him, Where wert thou borne?
Or tell to me, where dost thou fare?
‘I am a poore fisherman,’ saith he then,
‘This day intrapped all in care.’

7 ‘What is thy name, thou fine fellow?
I pray thee heartily tell to me;’
‘In mine own country where I was borne,
Men called me Simon over the Lee.’

8 ‘Simon, Simon,’ said the good wife,
The outlaw was ware of her courtesie,
And rejoyed he had got such a dame.

9 ‘Simon, wilt thou be my man?
And good round wages I’le give thee;
I have as good a ship of mine owne
As any sayle upon the sea.

10 ‘Anchors and planks thou shalt want none,
Masts and ropes that are so long;’
‘And if that you thus furnish me,’
Said Simon, ’Nothing shall goe wrong.’

11 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,
More of a day then two or three;
When others cast in their baited hooks,
The bare lines into the sea cast he.

12 ‘It will be long,’ said the master then,
‘Ere this great lubber do thrive on the sea;
I’le assure you he shall have no part of our fish,
For in truth he is of no part worthy.’

13 ‘O woe is me,’ said Simon then,
‘This day that ever I came here!
I wish I were in Plomton Parke,
In chasing of the fallow deere.

14 ‘For every clowne laughs me to scorne,
And they by me set nought at all;
If I had them in Plomton Park,
I would set as little by them all.’

15 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,
More of a day then two or three;
But Simon spied a ship of warre,
That sayld towards them most valourously.

16 ‘O woe is me,’ said the master then,
‘This day that ever I was borne!
For all our fish we have got to-day
Is every bit lost and forlorne.

17 ‘For your French robbers on the sea,
They will not spare of us one man,
But carry us to the coast of France,
And ligge us in the prison strong.’

18 But Simon said, Doe not feare them,
Neither, master, take you no care;
Give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare.

19 ‘Hold thy peace, thou long lubber,
For thou art nought but braggs and boast;
If I should cast the over-board,
There were nothing but a lubber lost.’

20 Simon grew angry at these words,
And so angry then was he
That he tooke his bent bow in his hand,
And to the ship-hatch goe doth he.

21 ‘Master, tye me to the mast,’ saith he,
‘That at my mark I may stand fair,
And give me my bended bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare.’

22 He drew his arrow to the very head,
And drew it with all might and maine,
And straightway, in the twinkling of an eye,
Doth the Frenchmans heart the arow gain.

23 The Frenchman fell downe on the ship-hatch,
And under the hatches down below;
Another Frenchman that him espy’d
The dead corps into the sea doth throw.

24 ‘O master, loose me from the mast,’ he said,
‘And for them all take you no care,
And give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare.’

25 Then streight [they] did board the Frenchmans ship,
They lying all dead in their sight;
They found within the ship of warre
Twelve thousand pound of money bright.

26 ‘The one halfe of the ship,’ said Simon then,
‘I’le give to my dame and children small;
The other halfe of the ship I’le bestow
On you that are my fellowes all.’

27 But now bespake the master then,
For so, Simon, it shall not be;
For you have won her with your own hand,
And the owner of it you shall bee.

28 ‘It shall be so, as I have said;
And, with this gold, for the opprest
An habitation I will build,
Where they shall live in peace and rest.’

149. Robin Hood's Birth, Breeding, Valor and Marriage

1 KIND gentlemen, will you be patient awhile?
Ay, and then you shall hear anon
A very good ballad of bold Robin Hood,
And of his man, brave Little John.

2 In Locksly town, in Nottinghamshire,
In merry sweet Locksly town,
There bold Robin Hood he was born and was bred,
Bold Robin of famous renown.

3 The father of Robin a forester was,
And he shot in a lusty long bow,
Two north country miles and an inch at a shot,
As the Pinder of Wakefield does know.

4 For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh,
And William a Clowdesle
To shoot with our forrester for forty mark,
And the forrester beat them all three.

5 His mother was neece to the Coventry knight,
Which Warwickshire men call Sir Guy;
For he slew the blue bore that hangs up at the gate,
Or mine host of The Bull tells a lye.

6 Her brother was Gamwel, of Great Gamwel Hall,
And a noble house-keeper was he,
Ay, as ever broke bread in sweet Nottinghamshire,
And a squire of famous degree.

7 The mother of Robin said to her husband,
My honey, my love, and my dear,
Let Robin and I ride this morning to Gamwel,
To taste of my brothers good cheer.

8 And he said, I grant thee thy boon, gentle Joan,
Take one of my horses, I pray;
The sun is a rising, and therefore make haste,
For to-morrow is Christmas-day.

9 Then Robin Hoods fathers grey gelding was brought,
And sadled and bridled was he;
God wot, a blew bonnet, his new suit of cloaths,
And a cloak that did reach to his knee.

10 She got on her holiday kirtle and gown,
They were of a light Lincoln green;
The cloath was homespun, but for colour and make
It might a beseemed our queen.

11 And then Robin got on his basket-hilt sword,
And his dagger on his tother side,
And said, My dear mother, let’s haste to be gone,
We have forty long miles to ride.

12 When Robin had mounted his gelding so grey,
His father, without any trouble,
Set her up behind him, and bad her not fear,
For his gelding had oft carried double.

13 And when she was settled, they rode to their neighbours,
And drank and shook hands with them all;
And then Robin gallopt, and never gave ore,
Till they lighted at Gamwel Hall.

14 And now you may think the right worshipful squire
Was joyful his sister to see;
For he kist her and kist her, and swore a great oath,
Thou art welcome, kind sister, to me.

15 To-morrow, when mass had been said in the chappel,
Six tables were coverd in the hall,
And in comes the squire, and makes a short speech,
It was, Neighbours, you’re welcome all.

16 But not a man here shall taste my March beer,
Till a Christmas carrol he sing:
Then all clapt their hands, and they shouted and sung,
Till the hall and the parlour did ring.

17 Now mustard and braun, roast beef and plumb pies,
Were set upon every table:
And noble George Gamwel said, Eat and be merry,
And drink too, as long as you’re able.

18 When dinner was ended, his chaplain said grace,
And, ‘Be merry, my friends,’ said the squire;
‘It rains, and it blows, but call for more ale,
And lay some more wood on the fire.

19 ‘And now call ye Little John hither to me,
For Little John is a fine lad
At gambols and juggling, and twenty such tricks
As shall make you merry and glad.’

20 When Little John came, to gambols they went,
Both gentleman, yeoman and clown;
And what do you think? Why, as true as I live,
Bold Robin Hood put them all down.

21 And now you may think the right worshipful squire
Was joyful this sight for to see;
For he said, Cousin Robin, thou’st go no more home,
But tarry and dwell here with me.

22 Thou shalt have my land when I dye, and till then
Thou shalt be the staff of my age;
‘Then grant me my boon, dear uncle,’ said Robin,
‘That Little John may be my page.’

23 And he said, Kind cousin, I grant thee thy boon;
With all my heart, so let it be;
‘Then come hither, Little John,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Come hither, my page, unto me.

24 ‘Go fetch my bow, my longest long bow,
And broad arrows, one, two, or three;
For when it is fair weather we’ll into Sherwood,
Some merry pastime to see.’

25 When Robin Hood came into merry Sherwood,
He winded his bugle so clear,
And twice five and twenty good yeomen and bold
Before Robin Hood did appear.

26 ‘Where are your companions all?’ said Robin Hood,
‘For still I want forty and three;’
Then said a bold yeoman, Lo, yonder they stand,
All under a green-wood tree.

27 As that word was spoke, Clorinda came by;
The queen of the shepherds was she;
And her gown was of velvet as green as the grass,
And her buskin did reach to her knee.

28 Her gait it was graceful, her body was straight,
And her countenance free from pride;
A bow in her hand, and quiver and arrows
Hung dangling by her sweet side.

29 Her eye-brows were black, ay, and so was her hair,
And her skin was as smooth as glass;
Her visage spoke wisdom, and modesty too;
Sets with Robin Hood such a lass!

30 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, whither away?
O whither, fair lady, away?
And she made him answer, To kill a fat buck;
For to-morrow is Titbury day.

31 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, wander with me
A little to yonder green bower;
There sit down to rest you, and you shall be sure
Of a brace or a lease in an hour.

32 And as we were going towards the green bower,
Two hundred good bucks we espy’d;
She chose out the fattest that was in the herd,
And she shot him through side and side.

33 ‘By the faith of my body,’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘I never saw woman like thee;
And comst thou from east, ay, or comst thou from west,
Thou needst not beg venison of me.

34 ‘However, along to my bower you shall go,
And taste of a forresters meat:’
And when we come thither, we found as good cheer
As any man needs for to eat.

35 For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold,
Cream clouted, with honey-combs plenty;
And the sarvitors they were, beside Little John,
Good yeomen at least four and twenty.

36 Clorinda said, Tell me your name, gentle sir;
And he said, ’Tis bold Robin Hood:
Squire Gamwel’s my uncle, but all my delight
Is to dwell in the merry Sherwood.

37 For ’tis a fine life, and ’tis void of all strife.
‘So ’tis, sir,’ Clorinda reply’d;
‘But oh,’ said bold Robin, ’How sweet would it be,
If Clorinda would be my bride!’

38 She blusht at the motion; yet, after a pause
Said, Yes, sir, and with all my heart;
‘Then let’s send for a priest,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And be married before we do part.’

39 But she said, It may not be so, gentle sir,
For I must be at Titbury feast;
And if Robin Hood will go thither with me,
I’ll make him the most welcome guest.

40 Said Robin Hood, Reach me that buck, Little John,
For I’ll go along with my dear;
Go bid my yeomen kill six brace of bucks,
And meet me to-morrow just here.

41 Before we had ridden five Staffordshire miles,
Eight yeomen, that were too bold,
Bid Robin Hood stand, and deliver his buck;
A truer tale never was told.

42 ‘I will not, faith!’ said bold Robin: ’Come, John,
Stand to me, and we’ll beat em all:’
Then both drew their swords, an so cut em and slasht em
That five of them did fall.

43 The three that remaind calld to Robin for quarter,
And pitiful John beggd their lives;
When John’s boon was granted, he gave them good counsel,
And so sent them home to their wives.

44 This battle was fought near to Titbury town,
When the bagpipes bated the bull;
I am king of the fidlers, and sware ’tis a truth,
And I call him that doubts it a gull.

45 For I saw them fighting, and fidld the while,
And Clorinda sung, Hey derry down!
The bumpkins are beaten, put up thy sword,Bob,
And now let’s dance into the town.

46 Before we came to it, we heard a strange shouting,
And all that were in it lookd madly;
For some were a bull-back, some dancing a morris,
And some singing Arthur-a-Bradly.

47 And there we see Thomas, our justices clerk,
And Mary, to whom he was kind;
For Tom rode before her, and calld Mary, Madam,
And kist her full sweetly behind.

48 And so may your worships. But we went to dinner,
With Thomas and Mary and Nan;
They all drank a health to Clorinda, and told her
Bold Robin Hood was a fine man.

49 When dinner was ended, Sir Roger, the parson
Of Dubbridge, was sent for in haste;
He brought his mass-book, and he bade them take hands,
And he joynd them in marriage full fast.

50 And then, as bold Robin Hood and his sweet bride
Went hand in hand to the green bower,
The birds sung with pleasure in merry Sherwood,
And ’twas a most joyful hour.

51 And when Robin came in the sight of the bower,
‘Where are my yeomen?’ said he;
And Little John answered, Lo, yonder they stand,
All under the green-wood tree.

52 Then a garland they brought her, by two and by two,
And plac’d them upon the bride’s head;
The music struck up, and we all fell to dance,
Till the bride and the groom were a-bed.

53 And what they did there must be counsel to me,
Because they lay long the next day,
And I had haste home, but I got a good piece
Of the bride-cake, and so came away.

54 Now out, alas! I had forgotten to tell ye
That marryd they were with a ring;
And so will Nan Knight, or be buried a maiden,
And now let us pray for the king:

55 That he may get children, and they may get more,
To govern and do us some good;
And then I’ll make ballads in Robin Hood’s bower,
And sing em in merry Sherwood.

150. Robin Hood and Maid Marian

1 A BONNY fine maid of a noble degree,
With a hey down down a down down
Maid Marian calld by name,
Did live in the North, of excellent worth,
For she was a gallant dame.

2 For favour and face, and beauty most rare,
Queen Hellen shee did excell;
For Marian then was praisd of all men
That did in the country dwell.

3 ’Twas neither Rosamond nor Jane Shore,
Whose beauty was clear and bright,
That could surpass this country lass,
Beloved of lord and knight.

4 The Earl of Huntington, nobly born,
That came of noble blood,
To Marian went, with a good intent,
By the name of Robin Hood.

5 With kisses sweet their red lips meet,
For shee and the earl did agree;
In every place, they kindly imbrace,
With love and sweet unity.

6 But fortune bearing these lovers a spight,
That soon they were forced to part,
To the merry green wood then went Robin Hood,
With a sad and sorrowfull heart.

7 And Marian, poor soul, was troubled in mind,
For the absence of her friend;
With finger in eye, shee often did cry,
And his person did much commend.

8 Perplexed and vexed, and troubled in mind,
Shee drest her self like a page,
And ranged the wood to find Robin Hood,
The bravest of men in that age.

9 With quiver and bow, sword, buckler, and all,
Thus armed was Marian most bold,
Still wandering about to find Robin out,
Whose person was better then gold.

10 But Robin Hood, hee himself had disguisd,
And Marian was strangly attir’d,
That they provd foes, and so fell to blowes,
Whose vallour bold Robin admir’d.

11 They drew out their swords, and to cutting they went,
At least an hour or more,
That the blood ran apace from bold Robins face,
And Marian was wounded sore.

12 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And thou shalt be one of my string,
To range in the wood with bold Robin Hood,
To hear the sweet nightingall sing.’

13 When Marian did hear the voice of her love,
Her self shee did quickly discover,
And with kisses sweet she did him greet,
Like to a most loyall lover.

14 When bold Robin Hood his Marian did see,
Good lord, what clipping was there!
With kind imbraces, and jobbing of faces,
Providing of gallant cheer.

15 For Little John took his bow in his hand,
And wandring in the wood,
To kill the deer, and make good chear,
For Marian and Robin Hood.

16 A stately banquet the[y] had full soon,
All in a shaded bower,
Where venison sweet they had to eat,
And were merry that present hour.

17 Great flaggons of wine were set on the board,
And merrily they drunk round
Their boules of sack, to strengthen the back,
Whilst their knees did touch the ground.

18 First Robin Hood began a health
To Marian his onely dear,
And his yeomen all, both comly and tall,
Did quickly bring up the rear.

19 For in a brave veine they tost off the[ir] bouls,
Whilst thus they did remain,
And every cup, as they drunk up,
They filled with speed again.

20 At last they ended their merryment,
And went to walk in the wood,
Where Little John and Maid Marian
Attended on bold Robin Hood.

21 In sollid content together they livd,
With all their yeomen gay;
They livd by their hands, without any lands,
And so they did many a day.

22 But now to conclude, an end I will make
In time, as I think it good,
For the people that dwell in the North can tell
Of Marian and bold Robin Hood.

151. The King's Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood

1 KING RICHARD hearing of the pranks
Of Robin Hood and his men,
He much admir’d, and more desir’d,
To see both him and them.

2 Then with a dozen of his lords
To Nottingham he rode;
When he came there, he made good cheer,
And took up his abode.

3 He having staid there some time,
But had no hopes to speed,
He and his lords, with [free] accord,
All put on monk’s weeds.

4 From Fountain-abby they did ride,
Down to barnsdale;
Where Robin Hood prepar d stood
All company to assail.

5 The king was higher then the rest,
And Robin thought he had
An abbot been whom he did spleen;
To rob him he was glad.

6 He took the king’s horse by the head,
‘Abbot,’ says he, ‘abide;
I am bound to rue such knaves as you,
That live in pomp and pride.’

7 ‘But we are messengers from the king,’
The king himself did say;
‘Near to this place his royal Grace
To speak with thee does stay.’

8 ‘God save the king,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And all that wish him well;
He that does deny his sovereignty,
I wish he was in hell.’

9 ‘O thyself thou curses,’ says the king,
‘For thou a traitor art:’
‘Nay, but that you are his messenger,
I swear you lie in heart.

10 ‘For I never yet hurt any man
That honest is and true;
But those that give their minds to live
Upon other men’s due.

11 ‘I never hurt the husbandman,
That use to till the ground;
Nor spill their blood that range the wood
To follow hawk or hound.

12 ‘My chiefest spite to clergy is,
Who in these days bear a great sway;
With fryars and monks, with their fine sprunks,
I make my chiefest prey.

13 ‘But I am very glad,’ says Robin Hood,
‘That I have met you here;
Come, before we end, you shall, my friend,
Taste of our green-wood cheer.’

14 The king did then marvel much,
And so did all his men;
They thought with fear, what kind of cheer
Robin would provide for them.

15 Robin took the king’s horse by the head,
And led him to the tent;
‘Thou would not be so usd,’ quoth he,
‘But that my king thee sent.

16 ‘Nay, more than that,’ said Robin Hood,
‘For good king Richard’s sake,
If you had as much gold as ever I told,
I would not one penny take.’

17 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,
And a loud blast he did blow,
Till a hundred and ten of Robin Hood’s men
Came marching all of a row.

18 And when they came bold Robin before,
Each man did bend his knee;
‘O,’ thought the king, ‘’tis a gallant thing,
And a seemly sight to see.’

19 Within himself the king did say,
These men of Robin Hood’s
More humble be than mine to me;
So the court may learn of the woods.

20 So then they all to dinner went,
Upon a carpet green;
Black, yellow, red, finely mingl d,
Most curious to be seen.

21 Venison and fowls were plenty there,
With fish out of the river:
King Richard swore, on sea or shore,
He neer was feasted better.

22 Then Robin takes a can of ale:
‘Come, let us now begin;
Come, every man shall have his can;
Here’s a health unto the king.’

23 The king himself drank to the king,
So round about it went;
Two barrels of ale, both stout and stale,
To pledge that health were spent.

24 And after that, a bowl of wine
In his hand took Robin Hood;
‘Until I die, I’ll drink wine,’ said he,
‘While I live in the green-wood.

25 ‘Bend all your bows,’ said Robin Hood,
‘And with the grey goose wing
Such sport now shew as you would do
In the presence of the king.’

26 They shewd such brave archery,
By cleaving sticks and wands,
That the king did say, Such men as they
Live not in many lands.

27 ‘Well, Robin Hood,’ then says the king,
‘If I could thy pardon get,
To serve the king in every thing
Wouldst thou thy mind firm set?’

28 ‘Yes, with all my heart,’ bold Robin said,
So they flung off their hoods;
To serve the king in every thing,
They swore they would spend their bloods.

29 ‘For a clergyman was first my bane,
Which makes me hate them all;
But if you’ll be so kind to me,
Love them again I shall.’

30 The king no longer could forbear,
For he was movd with ruth;
[‘Robin,’ said he, ‘I now tell thee
The very naked truth.]

31 ‘I am the king, thy sovereign king,
That appears before you all;’
When Robin see that it was he,
Strait then he down did fall.

32 ‘Stand up again,’ then said the king,
‘I’ll thee thy pardon give;
Stand up, my friend; who can contend,
When I give leave to live?’

33 So they are all gone to Nottingham,
All shouting as they came;
But when the people them did see,
They thought the king was slain,

34 And for that cause the outlaws were come,
To rule all as they list;
And for to shun, which way to run
The people did not wist.

35 The plowman left the plow in the fields,
The smith ran from his shop;
Old folks also, that scarce could go,
Over their sticks did hop.

36 The king soon let them understand
He had been in the green wood,
And from that day, for evermore,
He’d forgiven Robin Hood.

37 When the people they did hear,
And the truth was known,
They all did sing, ‘God save the king!
Hang care, the town’s our own!’

38 ‘What’s that Robin Hood?’ then said the sheriff;
‘That varlet I do hate;
Both me and mine he causd to dine,
And servd us all with one plate.’

39 ‘Ho, ho,’ said Robin, ‘I know what you mean;
Come, take your gold again;
Be friends with me, and I with thee,
And so with every man.

40 ‘Now, master sheriff, you are paid,
And since you are beginner,
As well as you give me my due;
For you neer paid for that dinner.

41 ‘But if that it should please the king
So much your house to grace
To sup with you, for to speak true,
[I] know you neer was base.’

42 The sheriff could not [that] gain say,
For a trick was put upon him;
A supper was drest, the king was guest,
But he thought ’twould have undone him.

43 They are all gone to London court,
Robin Hood, with all his train;
He once was there a noble peer,
And now he’s there again.

44 Many such pranks brave Robin playd
While he lived in the green wood:
Now, my friends, attend, and hear an end
Of honest Robin Hood.

152. Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow

1 WHEN as the sheriff of Nottingham
Was come, with mickle grief,
He talkd no good of Robin Hood,
That strong and sturdy thief.
Fal lal dal de

2 So unto London-road he past,
His losses to unfold
To King Richard, who did regard
The tale that he had told.

3 ‘Why,’ quoth the king, ’what shall I do?
Art thou not sheriff for me?
The law is in force, go take thy course
Of them that injure thee.

4 ‘Go get thee gone, and by thyself
Devise some tricking game
For to enthral yon rebels all;
Go take thy course with them.’

5 So away the sheriff he returnd,
And by the way he thought
Of the words of the king, and how the thing
To pass might well be brought.

6 For within his mind he imagined
That when such matches were,
Those outlaws stout, without [all] doubt,
Would be the bowmen there.

7 So an arrow with a golden head
And shaft of silver white,
Who won the day should bear away
For his own proper right.

8 Tidings came to brave Robin Hood,
Under the green-wood tree:
‘Come prepare you then, my merry men,
We’ll go yon sport to see.’

9 With that stept forth a brave young man,
David of Doncaster:
‘Master,’ said he, ’Be ruld by me,
From the green-wood we’ll not stir.

10 ‘To tell the truth, I’m well informed
Yon match is a wile;
The sheriff, I wiss, devises this
Us archers to beguile.’

11 ‘O thou smells of a coward,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Thy words does not please me;
Come on’t what will, I’ll try my skill
At yon brave archery.’

12 O then bespoke brave Little John:
Come, let us thither gang;
Come listen to me, how it shall be
That we need not be kend.

13 Our mantles, all of Lincoln green,
Behind us we will leave;
We’ll dress us all so several
They shall not us perceive.

14 One shall wear white, another red,
One yellow, another blue;
Thus in disguise, to the exercise
We’ll gang, whateer ensue.

15 Forth from the green-wood they are gone,
With hearts all firm and stout,
Resolving [then] with the sheriff’s men
To have a hearty bout.

16 So themselves they mixed with the rest,
To prevent all suspicion;
For if they should together hold
They thought [it] no discretion.

17 So the sheriff looking round about,
Amongst eight hundred men,
But could not see the sight that he
Had long expected then.

18 Some said, If Robin Hood was here,
And all his men to boot,
Sure none of them could pass these men,
So bravely they do shoot.

19 ‘Ay,’ quoth the sheriff, and scratchd his head,
‘I thought he would have been here;
I thought he would, but, tho he’s bold,
He durst not now appear.’

20 O that word grieved Robin Hood to the heart;
He vex d in his blood;
Eer long, thought he, thou shalt well see
That here was Robin Hood.

21 Some cried, Blue jacket! another cried, Brown!
And the third cried, Brave Yellow!
But the fourth man said, Yon man in red
In this place has no fellow.

22 For that was Robin Hood himself,
For he was cloathd in red;
At every shot the prize he got,
For he was both sure and dead.

23 So the arrow with the golden head
And shaft of silver white
Brave Robin Hood won, and bore with him
For his own proper right.

24 These outlaws there, that very day,
To shun all kind of doubt,
By three or four, no less no more,
As they went in came out.

25 Until they all assembled were
Under the green-wood shade,
Where they report, in pleasant sport,
What brave pastime they made.

26 Says Robin Hood, All my care is,
How that yon sheriff may
Know certainly that it was I
That bore his arrow away.

27 Says Little John, My counsel good
Did take effect before,
So therefore now, if you’ll allow,
I will advise once more.

28 ‘Speak on, speak on,’ said Robin Hood,
‘Thy wit’s both quick and sound;
[I know no man amongst us can
For wit like thee be found.’]

29 ‘This I advise,’ said Little John;
‘That a letter shall be pend,
And when it is done, to Nottingham
You to the sheriff shall send.’

30 ‘That is well advised,’ said Robin Hood,
‘But how must it be sent?’
‘Pugh! when you please, it’s done with ease,
Master, be you content.

31 ‘I’ll stick it on my arrow’s head,
And shoot it into the town;
The mark shall show where it must go,
When ever it lights down.’

32 The project it was full performd;
The sheriff that letter had;
Which when he read, he scratchd his head,
And rav’d like one that’s mad.

33 So we’ll leave him chafing in his grease,
Which will do him no good;
Now, my friends, attend, and hear the end
Of honest Robin Hood.

153. Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight

Version A

1 WHEN Robin Hood, and his merry men all,
Derry, etc.
Had reigned many years,
The king was then told they had been too bold
To his bishops and noble peers.
Hey, etc.

2 Therefore they called a council of state,
To know what was best to be done
For to quell their pride, or else, they reply’d,
The land would be over-run.

3 Having consulted a whole summers day,
At length it was agreed
That one should be sent to try the event,
And fetch him away with speed.

4 Therefore a trusty and worthy knight
The king was pleasd to call,
Sir William by name; when to him he came,
He told him his pleasure all.

5 ‘Go you from hence to bold Robin Hood,
And bid him, without more a-do,
Surrender himself, or else the proud elf
Shall suffer with all his crew.

6 ‘Take here a hundred bowmen brave,
All chosen men of might,
Of excellent art for to take thy part,
In glittering armour bright.’

7 Then said the knight, My sovereign liege,
By me they shall be led;
I’ll venture my blood against bold Robin Hood,
And bring him alive or dead.

8 One hundred men were chosen straight,
As proper as eer men saw;
On Midsummer-day the marched away,
To conquer that brave outlaw.

9 With long yew bows and shining spears,
They marchd in mickle pride,
And never delayd, or halted, or stayd,
Till they came to the greenwood-side.

10 Said he to his archers, Tarry here;
Your bows make ready all,
That, if need should be, you may follow me;
And see you observe my call.

11 ‘I’ll go in person first,’ he cry’d,
‘With the letters of my good king,
Both signd and seald, and if he will yield,
We need not draw one string.’

12 He wanderd about till at length he came
To the tent of Robin Hood;
The letter he shews; bold Robin arose,
And there on his guard he stood.

13 ‘They’d have me surrender,’ quoth bold Robin Hood,
‘And lie at their mercy then;
But tell them from me, that never shall be,
While I have full seven-score men.’

14 Sir William the knight, both hardy and bold,
Did offer to seize him there,
Which William Locksly by fortune did see,
And bid him that trick forbear.

15 Then Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth,
And blew a blast or twain,
And so did the knight, at which there in sight
The archers came all amain.

16 Sir William with care he drew up his men,
And plac’d them in battle array;
Bold Robin, we find, he was not behind;
Now this was a bloody fray.

17 The archers on both sides bent their bows,
And the clouds of arrows flew;
The very first flight, that honoured knight
Did there bid the world adieu.

18 Yet nevertheless their fight did last
From morning till almost noon;
Both parties were stout, and loath to give out;
This was on the last [day] of June.

19 At length they went off; one part they went
To London with right good will;
And Robin Hood he to the green-wood tree,
And there he was taken ill.

20 He sent for a monk, who let him blood,
And took his life away;
Now this being done, his archers they run,
It was not a time to stay.

21 Some got on board and crossd the seas,
To Flanders, France, and Spain,
And others to Rome, for fear of their doom,
But soon returnd again.

22 Thus he that never feard bow nor spear
Was murderd by letting of blood;
And so, loving friends, the story doth end
Of valiant bold Robin Hood.

23 There’s nothing remains but his epitaph now,
Which, reader, here you have;
To this very day, and read it you may,
As it was upon his grave.

Version A.Epi.

1 Robin, Earl of Huntington,
Lies under this little stone.
No archer was like him so good;
His wildness nam’d him Robin Hood.
Full thirteen years, and something more,
These northern parts he vexed sore.
Such outlaws as he and his men
May England never know again!

154. A True Tale of Robin Hood

Version A

1 BOTH gentlemen, or yeomen bould,
Or whatsoever you are,
To have a stately story tould,
Attention now prepare.

2 It is a tale of Robin Hood,
Which I to you will tell,
Which being rightly understood,
I know will please you well.

3 This Robbin, so much talked on,
Was once a man of fame,
Instiled Earle of Huntington,
Lord Robert Hood by name.

4 In courtship and magnificence,
His carriage won him prayse,
And greater favor with his prince
Than any in his dayes.

5 In bounteous liberality
He too much did excell,
And loved men of quality
More than exceeding well.

6 His great revennues all he sould
For wine and costly cheere;
He kept three hundred bowmen bold,
He shooting loved so deare.

7 No archer living in his time
With him might well compare;
He practisd all his youthfull prime
That exercise most rare.

8 At last, by his profuse expence,
He had consumd his wealth,
And being outlawed by his prince,
In woods he livd by stealth.

9 The abbot of Saint Maries rich,
To whom he mony ought,
His hatred to this earle was such
That he his downefall wrought.

10 So being outlawed, as ’tis told,
He with a crew went forth
Of lusty cutters, stout and bold,
And robbed in the North.

11 Among the rest, one Little John,
A yeoman bold and free,
Who could, if it stood him upon,
With ease encounter three.

12 One hundred men in all he got,
With whom, the story sayes,
Three hundred common men durst not
Hold combate any wayes.

13 They Yorkshire woods frequented much,
And Lancashire also,
Wherein their practises were such
That they wrought mickle woe.

14 None rich durst travell to and fro,
Though nere so strongly armd,
But by these theeves, so strong in show,
They still were robd and harmd.

15 His chiefest spight to the clergie was,
That lived in monstrous pride;
No one of them he would let passe
Along the high-way side,

16 But first they must to dinner goe,
And afterwards to shrift:
Full many a one he served so,
Thus while he livd by theft.

17 monkes nor fryers he would let goe,
Without paying their fees:
If they thought much to be usd so,
Their stones he made them leese.

18 For such as they the country filld
With bastards in those dayes;
Which to prevent, these sparkes did geld
All that came by their wayes.

19 But Robbin Hood so gentle was,
And bore so brave a minde,
If any in distresse did passe,
To them he was so kinde

20 That he would give and lend to them,
To helpe them at their neede:
This made all poore men pray for him,
And wish he well might speede.

21 The widdow and the fatherlesse
He would send meanes unto,
And those whom famine did oppresse
Found him a friendly foe.

22 Nor would he doe a woman wrong,
But see her safe conveid;
He would protect with power strong
All those who crav’d his ayde.

23 The abbot of Saint Maries then,
Who him undid before,
Was riding with two hundred men,
And gold and silver store.

24 But Robbin Hood upon him set
With his couragious sparkes,
And all the coyne perforce did get,
Which was twelve thousand markes.

25 He bound the abbot to a tree,
And would not let him passe
Before that to his men and he
His lordship had sayd masse.

26 Which being done, upon his horse
He set him fast astride,
And with his face towards his ar--
He forced him to ride.

27 His men were faine to be his guide,
For he rode backward home;
The abbot, being thus villifide,
Did sorely chafe and fume.

28 Thus Robbin Hood did vindicate
His former wrongs receivd;
For ’twas this covetous prelate
That him of land bereavd.

29 The abbot he rode to the king
With all the haste he could,
And to his Grace he every thing
Exactly did unfold.

30 And sayd if that no course were tane,
By force or stratagem,
To take this rebell and his traine,
No man should passe for them.

31 The king protested by and by
Unto the abbot then
That Robbin Hood with speed should dye,
With all his merry men.

32 But ere the king did any send,
He did another feate,
Which did his Grace much more offend;
The fact indeed was great.

33 in a short time after that,
The kings receivers went
Towards London with the coyne they got,
For ’s highnesse northerne rent.

34 Bold Robbin Hood and Little John,
With the rest of their traine,
Not dreading law, set them upon,
And did their gold obtaine.

35 The king much moved at the same,
And the abbots talke also,
In this his anger did proclaime,
And sent word to and fro,

36 That whosoere, alive or dead,
Could bring him Robbin Hood,
Should have one thousand markes, well payd
In gold and silver good.

37 This promise of the king did make
Full many yeomen bold
Attempt stout Robbin Hood to take,
With all the force they could.

38 But still when any came to him,
Within the gay greene wood,
He entertainement gave to them,
With venison fat and good.

39 And shewd to them such martiall sport,
With his long bow and arrow,
That they of him did give report,
How that it was great sorow,

40 That such a worthy man as he
Should thus be put to shift,
Being late a lord of high degree,
Of living quite bereft.

41 The king, to take him, more and more
Sent men of mickle might,
But he and his still beate them sore,
And conquered them in fight.

42 Or else, with love and courtesie,
To him he won their hearts:
Thus still he livd by robbery,
Throughout the northerne parts.

43 And all the country stood in dread
Of Robbin Hood and ’s men;
For stouter lads nere livd by bread,
In those dayes nor since then.

44 The abbot which before I nam’d
Sought all the meanes he could
To have by force this rebell tane,
And his adherents bold.

45 Therefore he armd five hundred men,
With furniture compleate,
But the outlawes slew halfe of them,
And made the rest retreate.

46 The long bow and the arrow keene
They were so usd unto
That still they kept the forest greene,
In spight o th’ proudest foe.

47 Twelve of the abbots men he tooke,
Who came him to have tane,
When all the rest the field forsooke;
These he did entertaine

48 With banquetting and merriment,
And, having usd them well,
He to their lord them safely sent,
And willd them him to tell

49 That if he would be pleasd at last
To beg of our good king
That he might pardon what was past,
And him to favour bring,

50 He would surrender backe agen
The money which before
Was taken by him and his men,
From him and many more.

51 Poore men might safely passe by him,
And some that way would chuse,
For well they knew that to helpe them
He evermore did use.

52 But where he knew a miser rich,
That did the poore oppresse,
To feele his coyne his hand did itch;
Hee’de have it, more or lesse.

53 And sometimes, when the high-way fayld,
Then he his courage rouses;
He and his men have oft assayld
Such rich men in their houses.

54 So that, through dread of Robbin then
And his adventurous crew,
The mizers kept great store of men,
Which else maintaynd but few.

55 King Richard, of that name the first,
Sirnamed Cuer de Lyon,
Went to defeate the Pagans curst,
Who kept the coasts of Syon.

56 The bishop of Ely, chancelor,
Was left as vice-roy here,
Who like a potent emperor,
Did proudly domminere.

57 Our chronicles of him report
That commonly he rode
With a thousand horse from court to court,
Where he would make abode.

58 He, riding downe towards the north,
With his aforesayd traine,
Robbin and his did issue forth,
Them all to entertaine.

59 And, with the gallant gray-goose wing,
They shewed to them such play,
That made their horses kicke and fling,
And downe their riders lay.

60 Full glad and faine the bishop was,
For all his thousand men,
To seeke what meanes he could to passe
From out of Robbins ken.

61 Two hundred of his men were kil’d,
And fourscore horses good;
Thirty, who did as captives yeeld,
Were carryed to the greene wood.

62 Which afterwards were ransomed,
For twenty markes a man;
The rest set spurres to horse, and fled
To th’ town of Warrington.

63 The bishop, sore enraged then,
Did, in King Richards name,
Muster a power of northerne men,
These outlawes bold to tame.

64 But Robbin, with his courtesie,
So wonne the meaner sort,
That they were loath on him to try
What rigor did import.

65 So that bold Robbin and his traine
Did live unhurt of them,
Vntill King Richard came againe
From faire Jerusalem.

66 And then the talke of Robbin Hood
His royall eares did fill;
His Grace admir’d that ith’ greene wood
He thus continued still.

67 So that the country farre and neare
Did give him great applause;
For none of them neede stand in feare,
But such as broke the lawes.

68 He wished well unto the king,
And prayed still for his health,
And never practised any thing
Against the common wealth.

69 Onely, because he was undone
By th’ crewell clergie then,
All meanes that he could thinke upon
To vexe such kinde of men

70 He enterprized, with hatefull spleene;
In which he was to blame,
For fault of some, to wreeke his teene
On all that by him came.

71 With wealth which he by robbery got
Eight almes-houses he built,
Thinking thereby to purge the blot
Of blood which he had spilt.

72 Such was their blinde devotion then,
Depending on their workes;
Which, it ’twere true, we Christian men
Inferiour were to Turkes.

73 But, to speak true of Robbin Hood,
And wrong him not a iot,
He never would shed any mans blood
That him invaded not.

74 Nor would he iniure husbandmen,
That toyld at cart and plough;
For well he knew, were ’t not for them,
To live no man knew how.

75 The king in person, with some lords,
To Notingham did ride,
To try what strength and skill affords
To crush these outlawes pride.

76 And, as he once before had done,
He did againe proclaime,
That whosoere would take upon
To bring to Notingham,

77 Or any place within the land,
Rebellious Robbin Hood,
Should be preferd in place to stand
With those of noble blood.

78 When Robbin Hood heard of the same,
Within a little space,
Into the towne of Notingham
A letter to his Grace

79 He shot upon an arrow-head,
One evening cunningly;
Which was brought to the king, and read
Before his Maiestie.

80 The tennour of this letter was,
That Robbin would submit,
And be true leigeman to his Grace,
In any thing that’s fit,

81 So that his Highnesse would forgive
Him and his merry men all;
If not, he must i th’ greene wood live,
And take what chance did fall.

82 The king would faine have pardoned him,
But that some lords say,
This president will much condemne
Your Grace another day.

83 While that the king and lords did stay
Debating on this thing,
Some of these outlawes fled away
Unto the Scottish king.

84 For they supposed, if he were tane,
Or to the king did yeeld,
By th’ commons all the rest on ’s traine
Full quickely would be quelld.

85 Of more than full a hundred men
But forty tarryed still,
Who were resolvd to sticke to him,
Let fortune worke her will.

86 If none had fled, all for his sake
Had got their pardon free;
The king to favour meant to take
His merry men and he.

87 But ere the pardon to him came,
This famous archer dy’d:
His death, and manner of the same,
I’le presently describe.

88 For, being vext to thinke upon
His followers revolt,
In melancholly passion
He did recount their fault.

89 ‘Perfideous traytors!’ sayd he then,
‘In all your dangers past
Have I you guarded as my men
To leave me thus at last?’

90 This sad perplexity did cause
A fever, as some say,
Which him unto confusion drawes,
Though by a stranger way.

91 This deadly danger to prevent,
He hide him with all speede
Vnto a nunnery, with intent
For his healths sake to bleede.

92 A faithlesse fryer did pretend
In love to let him blood;
But he by falshood wrought the end
Of famous Robbin Hood .

93 The fryer, as some say, did this
To vindicate the wrong
Which to the clergie he and his
Had done by power strong.

94 Thus dyed he by trechery,
That could not dye by force;
Had he livd longer, certainely,
King Richard, in remorse,

95 Had unto favour him receavd;
He brave men elevated;
’Tis pitty he was of life bereavd
By one which he so hated.

96 A treacherous leech this fryer was,
To let him bleed to death;
And Robbin was, me thinkes, an asse,
To trust him with his breath.

97 His corpes the priores of the place,
The next day that he dy’d,
Caused to be buried, in mean case,
Close by the high-way side.

98 And over him she caused a stone
To be fixed on the ground;
An epitaph was set thereon,
Wherein his name was found.

99 The date o th’ yeare, and day also,
Shee made to be set there,
That all who by the way did goe
Might see it plaine appeare

100 That such a man as Robbin Hood
Was buried in that place;
And how he lived in the greene wood,
And robd there for a space.

101 It seems that although the clergie he
Had put to mickle woe,
He should not quite forgotten be,
Although he was their foe.

102 This woman, though she did him hate,
Yet loved his memory;
And thought it wondrous pitty that
His fame should with him dye.

103 This epitaph, as records tell,
Within this hundred yeares
By many was discerned well,
But time all things outweares.

104 His followers, when he was dead,
Were some received to grace;
The rest to forraigne countries fled,
And left their native place.

105 Although his funerall was but meane,
This woman had in minde
Least his fame should be buried cleane
From those that came behind.

106 For certainely, before nor since,
No man ere understood,
Vnder the reigne of any prince,
Of one like Robbin Hood.

107 Full thirteene yeares, and something more,
These outlawes lived thus,
Feared of the rich, loved of the poore,
A thing most marvelous.

108 A thing impossible to us
This story seemes to be;
None dares be now so venturous;
But times are chang’d, we see.

109 We that live in these latter dayes
Of civill government,
If neede be, have a hundred wayes
Such outlawes to prevent.

110 In those dayes men more barbarous were,
And lived lesse in awe;
Now, God be thanked! people feare
More to offend the law.

111 No roaring guns were then in use,
They dreampt of no such thing;
Our English men in fight did chuse
The gallant gray-goose wing.

112 In which activity these men,
Through practise, were so good,
That in those dayes non equald them,
Specially Robbin Hood.

113 So that, it seemes, keeping in caves,
In woods and forrests thicke,
Thei’d beate a multitude with staves,
Their arrowes did so pricke.

114 And none durst neare unto them come,
Unlesse in courtesie;
All such he bravely would send home,
With mirth and iollity.

115 Which courtesie won him such love,
As I before have told;
’Twas the cheefe cause that he did prove
More prosperous than he could.

116 Let us be thankefull for these times
Of plenty, truth, and peace,
And leave our great and horrid crimes,
Least they cause this to cease.

117 I know there’s many fained tales
Of Robbin Hood and ’s crew;
But chronicles, which seldome fayles,
Reports this to be true.

118 Let none then thinke this a lye,
For, if ’twere put to th’ worst,
They may the truth of all discry
I th’ raigne of Richard the first.

119 If any reader please to try,
As I direction show,
The truth of this brave history,
Hee’l finde it true I know.

120 And I shall thinke my labour well
Bestowed, to purpose good,
When ’t shall be sayd that I did tell
True tales of Robbin Hood.

Version A.Epi.

1 Robert Earle of Huntington
Lies under this little stone.
No archer was like him so good:
His wildnesse named him Robbin Hood.
Full thirteene yeares, and something more,
These northerne parts he vexed sore.
Such out-lawes as he and his men
May England never know agen.

155. Sir Hugh, or the Jew's Daughter

Version A

1 FOUR and twenty bonny boys
Were playing at the ba,
And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh,
And he playd oer them a’.

2 He kickd the ba with his right foot,
And catchd it wi his knee,
And throuch-and-thro the Jew’s window
He gard the bonny ba flee.

3 He’s doen him to the Jew’s castell,
And walkd it round about;
And there he saw the Jew’s daughter,
At the window looking out.

4 ‘Throw down the ba, ye Jew’s daughter,
Throw down the ba to me!’
‘Never a bit,’ says the jew’s daughter,
‘Till up to me come ye.’

5 ‘How will I come up? How can I come up?
How can I come to thee?
For as ye did to my auld father,
The same ye’ll do to me.’

6 She’s gane to her father’s garden,
And pu’d an apple red and green;
’Twas a’ to wyle him sweet Sir Hugh,
And to entice him in.

7 She’s led him in through ae dark door,
And sae has she thro nine;
She’s laid him on a dressing-table,
And stickit him like a swine.

8 And first came out the thick, thick blood,
And syne came out the thin,
And syne came out the bonny heart’s blood;
There was nae mair within.

9 She’s rowd him in a cake o lead,
Bade him lie still and sleep;
She’s thrown him in Our Lady’s draw-well,
Was fifty fathom deep.

10 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ the bairns came hame,
When every lady gat hame her son,
The Lady Maisry gat nane.

11 She’s taen her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the hand,
And she’s gane out to seek her son,
And wanderd oer the land.

12 She’s doen her to the Jew’s castell,
Where a’ were fast asleep:
‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak.’

13 She’s doen her to the Jew’s garden,
Thought he had been gathering fruit:
‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak.’

14 She neard Our Lady’s deep draw-well,
Was fifty fathom deep:
‘Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak.’

15 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear,
Prepare my winding-sheet,
And at the back o merry Lincoln
The morn I will you meet.’

16 Now Lady Maisry is gane hame,
Made him a winding sheet,
And at the back o merry Lincoln
The dead corpse did her meet.

17 And a’ the bells of merry Lincoln
Without men’s hands were rung,
And a’ the books o merry Lincoln
Were read without man’s tongue,
And neer was such a burial
Sin Adam’s days begun.

Version B

1 THE rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune,
Sae dois it doune the Pa;
Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune,
Whan they play at the ba.

2 Than out and cam the Jewis dochter,
Says, Will ye cum in and dine?
‘I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in,
Without my play-feres nine.’

3 Scho powd an apple reid and white,
To intice the young thing in:
Scho powd an apple white and reid,
And that the sweit bairne did win.

4 And scho has taine out a little pen-knife,
And low down by her gair;
Scho has twin’d the yong thing and his life,
A word he nevir spak mair.

5 And out and cam the thick, thick bluid,
And out and cam the thin,
And out and cam the bonny herts bluid;
Thair was nae life left in.

6 Scho laid him on a dressing-borde,
And drest him like a swine,
And laughing said, Gae nou and pley
With your sweit play-feres nine.

7 Scho rowd him in a cake of lead,
Bade him lie stil and sleip;
Scho cast him in a deip draw-well,
Was fifty fadom deip.

8 Whan bells wer rung, and mass was sung,
And every lady went hame,
Than ilka lady had her yong sonne,
Bot Lady Helen had nane.

9 Scho rowd hir mantil hir about,
And sair, sair gan she weip,
And she ran into the Jewis castel,
Whan they wer all asleip.

10 ‘My bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew,
I pray thee to me speik:’
‘O lady, rinn to the deip draw-well,
Gin ye your sonne wad seik.’

11 Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well,
And knelt upon her kne:
‘My bonny Sir Hew, an ye be here,
I pray thee speik to me.’

12 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mither,
The well is wondrous deip;
A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert,
A word I dounae speik.

13 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir,
Fetch me my windling sheet,
And at the back o Mirry-land toun,
It’s thair we twa sall meet.’

Version C

1 FOUR and twenty bonny boys
War playing at the ba;
Then up and started sweet Sir Hew,
The flower amang them a’.

2 He hit the ba a kick wi’s fit,
And kept it wi his knee,
That up into the Jew’s window
He gart the bonny ba flee.

3 ‘Cast doun the ba to me, fair maid,
Cast doun the ba to me;’
‘O neer a bit o the ba ye get
Till ye cum up to me.

4 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew,
Cum up and get the ba;’
‘I canna cum, I darna cum,
Without my play-feres twa.’

5 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew,
Cum up and play wi me;’
‘I canna cum, I darna cum,
Without my play-feres three.’

6 She’s gane into the Jew’s garden,
Where the grass grew lang and green;
She powd an apple red and white,
To wyle the young thing in.

7 She wyl’d him into ae chamber,
She wyl’d him into twa,
She wyl’d him to her ain chamber,
The fairest o them a’.

8 She laid him on a dressing-board,
Where she did sometimes dine;
She put a penknife in his heart,
And dressed him like a swine.

9 Then out and cam the thick, thick blude,
Then out and cam the thin;
Then out and cam the bonny heart’s blude,
Where a’ the life lay in.

10 She rowd him in a cake of lead,
Bad him lie still and sleep;
She cast him in the Jew’s draw-well,
Was fifty fadom deep.

11 She’s tane her mantle about her head,
Her pike-staff in her hand,
And prayed Heaven to be her guide
Unto some uncouth land.

12 His mither she cam to the Jew’s castle,
And there ran thryse about:
‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here,
I pray ye to me speak.’

13 She cam into the Jew’s garden,
And there ran thryse about;

146 sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here,
I pray ye to me speak.’

14 She cam unto the Jew’s draw-well,
And there ran thryse about:
‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here,
I pray ye to me speak.’

15 ‘How can I speak, how dare I speak,
How can I speak to thee?
The Jew’s penknife sticks in my heart,
I canna speak to thee.

16 ‘Gang hame, gang hame, O mither dear,
And shape my winding sheet,
And at the birks of Mirryland town
There you and I shall meet.’

17 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men bound for bed,
Every mither had her son,
But sweet Sir Hew was dead.

Version D

1 ARR’rr the boys of merry Linkim
War playing at the ba,
An up it stands him sweet Sir Hugh,
The flower amang them a’.

2 He keppit the ba than wi his foot,
And catchd it wi his knee,
And even in at the Jew’s window
He gart the bonny ba flee.

3 ‘Cast out the ba to me, fair maid,
Cast out the ba to me!’
‘Ah never a bit of it,’ she says,
‘Till ye come up to me.

4 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh,
Come up and get the ba’!’
‘I winna come up, I mayna come [up],
Without my bonny boys a’.’

5 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh,
Come up and speak to me!’
‘I mayna come up, I winna come up,
Without my bonny boys three.’

6 She’s taen her to the Jew’s garden,
Where the grass grew lang and green,
She’s pu’d an apple reid and white,
To wyle the bonny boy in.

7 She’s wyl’d him in thro ae chamber,
She’s wyl’d him in thro twa,
She’s wyl’d him till her ain chamber,
The flower out owr them a’.

8 She’s laid him on a dressin-board,
Whare she did often dine;
She stack a penknife to his heart,
And dressd him like a swine.

9 She rowd him in a cake of lead,
Bade him lie still and sleep;
She threw him i the Jew’s draw-well,
’Twas fifty fathom deep.

10 Whan bells was rung, and mass was sung,
An a’ man bound to bed,
Every lady got hame her son,
But sweet Sir Hugh was dead.

Version E

1 YESTERDAY was brave Hallowday,
And, above all days of the year,
The schoolboys all got leave to play,
And little Sir Hugh was there.

2 He kicked the ball with his foot,
And kepped it with his knee,
And even in at the Jew’s window
He gart the bonnie ba flee.

3 Out then came the Jew’s daughter:
‘Will ye come in and dine?’
‘I winna come in, and I canna come in,
Till I get that ball of mine.

4 ‘Throw down that ball to me, maiden,
Throw down the ball to me!’
‘I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh,
Till ye come up to me.’

5 She pu’d the apple frae the tree,
It was baith red and green;
She gave it unto little Sir Hugh,
With that his heart did win.

6 She wiled him into ae chamber,
She wiled him into twa,
She wiled him into the third chamber,
And that was warst o’t a’.

7 She took out a little penknife,
Hung low down by her spare,
She twined this young thing o his life,
And a word he neer spak mair.

8 And first came out the thick, thick blood,
And syne came out the thin,
And syne came out the bonnie heart’s blood,
There was nae mair within.

9 She laid him on a dressing-table,
She dressd him like a swine;
Says, Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh,
Wi yere apples red and green!

10 She put him in a case of lead,
Says, Lie ye there and sleep!
She threw him into the deep draw-well,
Was fifty fathom deep.

11 A schoolboy walking in the garden
Did grievously hear him moan;
He ran away to the deep draw-well,
And fell down on his knee.

12 Says, Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh,
I pray you speak to me!
If you speak to any body in this world,
I pray you speak to me.

13 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And every body went hame,
Then every lady had her son,
But Lady Helen had nane.

14 She rolled her mantle her about,
And sore, sore did she weep;
She ran away to the Jew’s castle,
When all were fast asleep.

15 She cries, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,
I pray you speak to me!
If you speak to any body in this world,
I pray you speak to me.

16 ‘Lady Helen, if ye want your son,
I’ll tell ye where to seek;
Lady Helen, if ye want your son,
He’s in the well sae deep.’

17 She ran away to the deep draw-well,
And she fell down on her knee,
Saying, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,
I pray ye speak to me!
If ye speak to any body in the world,
I pray ye speak to me.

18 ‘Oh the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother,
The well it is wondrous deep;
The little penknife sticks in my throat,
And I downa to ye speak.

19 ‘But lift me out o this deep draw-well,
And bury me in yon churchyard;
. . . .
. . . .

20 ‘Put a Bible at my head,’ he says,
‘And a Testament at my feet,
And pen and ink at every side,
And I’ll lie still and sleep.

21 ‘And go to the back of Maitland town,
Bring me my winding sheet;
For it’s at the back of Maitland town
That you and I shall meet.’

22 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom that makes full sore,
A woman’s mercy is very little,
But a man’s mercy is more.

Version F

1 ’TWAS on a summer’s morning
Some scholars were playing at ball,
When out came the Jew’s daughter
And leand her back against the wall.

2 She said unto the fairest boy,
Come here to me, Sir Hugh;
‘No! I will not,’ said he,
‘Without my playfellows too.’

3 She took an apple out of her pocket,
And trundled it along the plain,
And who was readiest to lift it
Was little Sir Hugh again.

4 She took him by the milk-white han,
An led him through many a hall,
Until they came to one stone chamber,
Where no man might hear his call.

5 She set him in a goolden chair,
And jaggd him with a pin,
And called for a goolden cup
To houl his heart’s blood in.

6 She tuk him by the yellow hair,
An also by the feet,
An she threw him in the deep draw-well;
It was fifty fadom deep.

7 Day bein over, the night came on,
And the scholars all went home;
Then every mother had her son,
But little Sir Hugh’s had none.

8 She put a mantle about her head,
Tuk a little rod in her han,
An she says, Sir Hugh, if I fin you here,
I will bate you for stayin so long.

9 First she went to the Jew’s door,
But they were fast asleep;
An then she went to the deep draw-well,
That was fifty fadom deep.

10 She says, Sir Hugh, if you be here,
As I suppose you be,
If ever the dead or quick arose,
Arise and spake to me.

11 ‘Yes, mother dear, I am here,
I know I have staid very long;
But a little penknife was stuck in my heart,
Till the stream ran down full strong.

12 ‘And mother dear, when you go home,
Tell my playfellows all
That I lost my life by leaving them,
When playing that game of ball.

13 ‘And ere another day is gone,
My winding-sheet prepare,
And bury me in the green churchyard,
Where the flowers are bloomin fair.

14 ‘Lay my Bible at my head,
My Testament at my feet;
the earth and worms shall be my bed,
Till Christ and I shall meet.’

Version G

155 Baltimore.
IT rains, it rains in old Scotland,
And down the rain does fa,
And all the boys in our town
Are out a playing at ba.

2 ‘You toss your balls too high, my boys,
You toss your balls too low;
You’ll toss them into the Jew’s garden,
Wherein you darst not go.’

3 Then out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
All dressed in red and green:
‘Come in, come in, my pretty little boy,
And get your ball again.’

4 ‘I winna come in, and I canna come in,
Without my playmates all,
And without the will of my mother dear,
Which would cause my heart’s blood to fall.’

5 She shewed him an apple as green as grass,
She shewed him a gay gold ring,
She shewed him a cherry as red as blood,
Which enticed the little boy in.

6 She took him by the lily-white hand,
And led him into the hall,
And laid him on a dresser-board,
And that was the worst of all.

7 She laid the Bible at his head,
The Prayer-Book at his feet,
And with a penknife small
She stuck him like a sheep.

8 Six pretty maids took him by the head,
And six took him by the feet,
And threw him into a deep draw-well,
That was eighteen fathoms deep.

9 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mother,
The well is wondrous deep,
A keen pen-knife sticks in my heart,
And nae word more can I speak.’

Version H

1 IT rains, it rains in fair Scotland,
It rains both great and small
. . . .
. . . .

2 He tossed the ball so high, so low,
He tossed the ball so low,
He tossed it over the Jew’s garden-wall,
Where no none dared to go.

3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
All dressed in apple-green;
Said she, My dear little boy, come in,
And pick up your ball again.

4 ‘I dare not come, I will not come,
I dare not come at all;
For if I should, I know you would
Cause my blood to fall.’

5 She took him by the lily-white hand,
And led him thro the kitchen;
And there he saw his own dear maid
A roasting of a chicken.

6 She put him in a little chair,
And pinned him with a pin,
And then she called for a wash-basin,
To spill his life blood in.

7 ‘O put the Bible at my head,
And the Testament at my feet,
And when my mother calls for me,
You may tell her I’m gone to sleep.’

Version I

1 the recitation of an aged lady.
IT rains, it rains in merry Scotland,
It rains both great and small,
And all the children in merry Scotland
Are playing at the ball.

2 They toss the ball so high, so high,
They toss the ball so low,
They toss the ball in the Jew’s garden,
Where the Jews are sitting a row.

3 Then up came one of the Jew’s daughters,
Cloathed all in green:
‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty Sir Hugh,
And fetch thy ball again.’

4 ‘I durst not come, I durst not go,
Without my play-fellowes all;
For if my mother should chance to know,
She’d cause my blood to fall.’

5 She laid him upon the dresser-board,
And stuck him like a sheep;
She laid the Bible at his head,
The Testament at his feet,
The Catechise-Book in his own heart’s blood,
With a penknife stuck so deep.

Version J

1 IT rains, it rains in merry Scotland,
Both little, great and small,
And all the schoolfellows in merry Scotland
Must needs go play at ball.

2 They tossd the ball so high, so high,
With that it came down so low;
They tossd it over the old Jew’s gates,
And broke the old Jew’s window.

3 The old Jew’s daughter she came out,
Was clothed all in green:
‘Come hither, come hither, you young Sir Hugh,
And fetch your ball again.’

4 ‘I dare not come, nor I will not come,
Without my schoolfellows come all;
For I shall be beaten when I go home
For losing of my ball.’

5 She ’ticed him with an apple so red,
And likewise with a fig;
She threw him over the dresser-board,
And sticked him like a pig.

6 The first came out the thickest of blood,
The second came out so thin,
The third came out the child’s heart-blood,
Where all his life lay in.

7 ‘O spare my life! O spare my life!
O spare my life!’ said he;
‘If ever I live to be a young man,
I’ll do as good chare for thee.’

8 ‘I’ll do as good chare for thy true love
As ever I did for the king;
I will scour a basin as bright as silver
To let your heart-blood run in.’

9 When eleven o’clock was past and gone,
And all the school-fellows came home,
Every mother had her own child
But young Sir Hugh’s mother had none.

10 She went up Lincoln and down Lincoln,
And all about Lincoln street,
With her small wand in her right hand,
Thinking of her child to meet.

11 She went till she came to the old Jew’s gate,
She knocked with the ring;
Who should be so ready as the old Jew herself
To rise and let her in!

12 ‘What news, fair maid? what news, fair maid?
What news have you brought to me?
. . . . .
. . . .

13 ‘Have you seen any of my child today,
Or any of the rest of my kin?’
‘No, I’ve seen none of your child today,
Nor none of the rest of your kin.’

Version K

1 IT hails, it rains, in Merry-Cock land,
It hails, it rains, both great and small,
And all the little children in Merry-Cock land
They have need to play at ball.

2 They tossd the ball so high,
They tossd the ball so low,
Amongst all the Jews’ cattle,
And amongst the Jews below.

3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
Dressed all in green;
‘Come, my sweet Saluter,
And fetch the ball again.’

4 ‘I durst not come, I must not come,
Unless all my little playfellows come along;
For if my mother sees me at the gate,
She’ll cause my blood to fall.

5 ‘She showd me an apple as green as grass,
She showd me a gay gold ring;
She showd me a cherry as red as blood,
And so she entic’d me in

6 ‘She took me in the parlor,
She took me in the kitchen,
And there I saw my own dear nurse,
A picking of a chicken.

7 ‘She laid me down to sleep,
With a Bible at my head and a Testament at my feet;
And if my playfellows come to quere for me,
Tell them I am asleep.’

Version L

1 IT rains, it hails in merry Lincoln,
It rains both great and small,
And all the boys and girls today
Do play at pat the ball.

2 They patted the ball so high, so high,
They patted the ball so low,
They patted it into the Jew’s garden,
Where all the Jews do go.

3 Then out it spake the Jew’s daughter,
As she leant over the wall;
‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty playfellow,
And I’ll give you your ball.’

4 She tempted him [in] with apple so red,
But that wouldnt tempt him in;
She tempted him in with sugar so sweet,
And so she got him in.

5 Then she put forth her lilly-white hand,
And led him through the hall:
‘This way, this way, my pretty play-fellow,
And you shall have your ball.’

6 She led him on through one chamber,
And so she did through nine,
Until she came to her own chamber,
Where she was wont to dine,
And she laid him on a dressing-board,
And sticket him like a swine.

7 Then out it came the thick, thick blood,
And out it came the thin,
And out it came the bonnie heart’s blood,
There was no more within.

Version M

1 DOWN in merry, merry Scotland
It rained both hard and small;
Two little boys went out one day,
All for to play with a ball.

2 They tossed it up so very, very high,
They tossed it down so low;
They tossed it into the Jew’s garden,
Where the flowers all do blow.

3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
Dress d in green all:
‘If you come here, my fair pretty lad,
You shall have your ball.’

4 She showed him an apple as green as grass;
The next thing was a fig;
The next thing a cherry as red as blood,
And that would ’tice him in.

5 set him on a golden chair,
And gave him sugar sweet;
Laid him on some golden chest of drawers,
Stabbed him like a sheep.

6 ‘Seven foot Bible
At my head and my feet;
If my mother pass by me,
Pray tell her I’m asleep.’

Version N

1 IT was on a May, on a midsummer’s day,
When it rained, it did rain small;
And little Harry Hughes and his playfellows all
Went out to play the ball.

2 He knocked it up, and he knocked it down,
He knocked it oer and oer;
The very first kick little Harry gave the ball,
He broke the duke’s windows all.

3 She came down, the youngest duke’s daughter,
She was dressed in green:
‘Come back, come back, my pretty little boy,
And play the ball again.’

4 ‘I wont come back, and I daren’t come back,
Without my playfellows all;
And if my mother she should come in,
She’d make it the bloody ball.’

5 She took an apple out of her pocket,
And rolled it along the plain;
Little Harry Hughes picked up the apple,
And sorely rued the day.

6 She takes him by the lily-white hand,
And leads him from hall to hall,
Until she came to a little dark room,
That no one could hear him call.

7 She sat herself on a golden chair,
Him on another close by,
And there’s where she pulled out her little penknife,
That was both sharp and fine.

8 Little Harry Hughes had to pray for his soul,
For his days were at an end;
She stuck her penknife in little Harry’s heart,
And first the blood came very thick, and then came very thin.

9 She rolled him in a quire of tin,
That was in so many a fold;
She rolled him from that to a little draw-well,
That was fifty fathoms deep.

10 ‘Lie there, lie there, little Harry,’ she cried,
‘And God forbid you to swim,
If you be a disgrace to me,
Or to any of my friends.’

11 The day passed by, and the night came on,
And every scholar was home,
And every mother had her own child,
But poor Harry’s mother had none.

12 She walked up and down the street,
With a little sally rod in her hand,
And God directed her to the little draw-well,
That was fifty fathoms deep.

13 ‘If you be there, little Harry,’ she said,
‘And God forbid you to be,
Speak one word to your own dear mother,
That is looking all over for thee.’

14 ‘This I am, dear mother,’ he cried,
‘And lying in great pain,
With a little penknife lying close to my heart,
And the duke’s daughter has me slain.

15 ‘Give my blessing to my schoolfellows all,
And tell them to be at the church,
And make my grave both large and deep,
And my coffin of hazel and green birch.

16 ‘Put my Bible at my head,
My busker (?) at my feet,
My little prayer-book at my right side,
And sound will be my sleep.’

Version O

1 IT rains, it rains, in merry Scotland,
It rains both great and small,
And all the children in merry Scotland
Must needs play at ball.

2 They toss the ball so high,
And they toss the ball so low;
They toss it into the Jew’s garden,
Where the Jews sate all of a row.

3 . . . .
A-dress d all in green:
‘Come in, come in, my pretty lad,
And you shall have your ball again.’

4 ‘They set me in a chair of state,
And gave me sugar sweet;
They laid me on a dresser-board,
And stuck me like a sheep.

5 ‘Oh lay a Bible at my head,
And a Prayer-Book at my feet!
In the well that they did throw me in,
Full five-and-fifty feet deep.’

Version P

1 HE tossed the ball so high, so high,
He tossed the ball so low,
He tossed the ball in the Jew’s garden,
And the Jews were all below.

2 Oh then out came the Jew’s daughter,
She was dressed all in green:
‘Come hither, come hither, my sweet pretty fellow,
And fetch your ball again.’

Version Q

1 ARR’rr the bairns o Lincolnshire
Were learning at the school,
And every Saturday at een
They learnt their lessons weel.

2 The Jew’s dochter sat in her bower-door,
Sewing at her seam;
She spied a’ the bonnie bairns,
As they cam out and hame.

Version R

1 IT was in the middle o the midsimmer tyme,
When the scule weans playd at the ba, ba,
Out and cam the Jew’s tochter,
And on little Sir Hew did ca, ca,
And on little Sir Hew did ca.

Version S

1 It rained so high, it rained so low,
. . . . . . .
In the Jew’s garden all below.

2 Out came a Jew,
All cloth d in green,
Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,
And fetch your ball again.

3 ‘I won’t come hither, I shan’t come hither,
Without my school-fellows all;
My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,
And cause my blood to pour.

4 ‘He showed me an apple as green as grass,
He showed me a gay gold ring,
He showed me a cherry as red as blood,
And that enticed me in.

5 ‘He enticed me into the parlour,
He enticed me into the kitchen,
And there I saw my own dear sister,
A picking of a chicken.

6 ‘He set me in a golden chair
And gave me sugar sweet;
He laid me on a dresser-board,
And stabbed me like a sheep.

7 ‘With a Bible at my head,
A Testament at my feet,
A prayer-book at the side of me,
And a penknife in so deep.

8 ‘If my mother should enquire for me,
Tell her I’m asleep;
Tell her I’m at heaven’s gate,
Where her and I shall meet.’

Version T

1 Easter Day was a holiday,
Of all days in the year,
And all the little schoolfellows went out to play,
Bat Sir William was not there.

2 Mammma went to the Jew’s wife’s house,
And knocked at the ring,
Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,
Oh, let your mother in!

3 The Jew’s wife opened the door and said,
He is not here to-day;
He is with the little schoolfellows out on the green,
Playing some pretty play.

4 Mamma went to the Boyne water,
That is so wide and deep,
Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,
Oh, pity your mother’s weep!

5 ‘How can I pity your weep, mother,
And I so long in pain?
For the little penknife sticks close in my heart,
And the Jew’s wife has me slain.

6 ‘Go home, go home, my mother dear,
And prepare my winding sheet,
For tomorrow morning before eight o’clock
You with my body shall meet.

7 ‘And lay my Prayer-Book at my head,
And my grammar at my feet,
That all the little schoolfellows as they pass by
May read them for my sake.’

Version U

1 You toss your ball so high,
You toss your ball so low,
You toss your ball into the Jew’s garden,
Where the pretty flowers grow.

2 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
Dressed all in green:
‘Come hither, pretty little dear,
And fetch your ball again.’

3 She showed him a rosy-cheeked apple,
She showed him a gay gold ring,
She showed him a cherry as red as blood,
And that enticed him in.

4 She set him in a golden chair,
She gave him kisses sweet,
She threw him down a darksome well,
More than fifty feet deep.

156. Queen Eleanor's Confession

Version A

1 QUEEN ELENOR was a sick woman,
And afraid that she should dye;
Then she sent for two fryars of France,
For to speak with them speedily.

2 The King calld down his nobles all,
By one, by two, and by three,
And sent away for Earl Martial,
For to speak with him speedily.

3 When that he came before the King,
He fell on his bended knee;
A boon, a boon! our gracious king,
That you sent so hastily.’

4 ‘I’ll pawn my living and my lands,
My septer and my crown,
That whatever Queen Elenor says,
I will not write it down.

5 ‘Do you put on one fryar’s coat,
And I’ll put on another,
And we will to Queen Elenor go,
one fryar like another.’

6 Thus both attired then they go;
When they came to Whitehall,
The bells they did ring, and the quiristers sing,
And the torches did light them all.

7 When that they came before the Queen,
They fell on their bended knee:
‘A boon, a boon! our gracious queen,
That you sent so hastily.’

8 ‘Are you two fryars of France?’ she said,
‘Which I suppose you be;
But if you are two English fryars,
Then hanged you shall be.’

9 ‘We are two fryars of France,’ they said,
‘As you suppose we be;
We have not been at any mass
Since we came from the sea.’

10 ‘The first vile thing that ere I did
I will to you unfold;
Earl Martial had my maidenhead,
Underneath this cloath of gold.’

11 at is a vile sin,’ then said the king,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
With a heavy heart then spoke he.

12 ‘The next vile thing that ere I did
To you I’ll not deny;
I made a box of poyson strong,
To poyson King Henry.’

13 ‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
‘And I wish it so may be.’

14 ‘The next vile thing that ere I did
To you I will discover;
I poysoned Fair Rosamond,
All in fair Woodstock bower.’

15 ‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
‘And I wish it so may be.’

16 ‘Do you see yonders little boy,
A tossing of that ball?
That is Earl Martial[’s] eldest son,
And I love him the best of all.

17 ‘Do you see yonders little boy,
A catching of the ball?
That is King Henry’s son,’ she said,
‘And I love him the worst of all.

18 ‘His head is like unto a bull,
His nose is like a boar;’
‘No matter for that,’ King Henry said,
‘I love him the better therefore.’

19 The King pulld of his fryar’s coat,
And appeard all in red;
She shriekd and she cry’d, she wrong her hands,
And said she was betrayd.

20 The King lookd over his left shoulder,
And a grim look looked he,
And said,Earl Martial, but for my oath,
Then hanged shouldst thou be.

Version B

1 OUR queen’s sick, an very sick,
She’s sick an like to die;
She has sent for the friars of France,
To speak wi her speedilie.

2 ‘I’ll put on a friar’s robe,
An ye’ll put on anither,
An we’ll go to Madam the Queen,
Like friars bath thegither.’

3 ‘God forbid,’ said Earl Marishall,
‘That ever the like shud be,
That I beguile Madam the Queen!
I wad be hangit hie.’

4 The King pat on a friar’s robe,
Earl Marishall on anither;
They’re on to the Queen,
Like friars baith thegither.

5 ‘Gin ye be the friars of France,
As I trust well ye be-+--+-
But an ye be ony ither men,
Ye sall be hangit hie.’

6 The King he turnd him roun,
An by his troth sware he,
We hae na sung messe
Sin we came frae the sea.

7 ‘The first sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I gae my maidenhead to Earl Marishall,
Under the greenwood tree.’

8 RR’Trrhat was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said Earl Marishall,
But a heavy heart had he.

9 ‘The next sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I poisened Lady Rosamond,
An the King’s darling was she.’

10 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
But a heavy heart had he.

11 ‘The next sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I keepit poison in my bosom seven years,
To poison him King Henrie.’

12 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
But a heavy heart had he.

13 ‘O see na ye yon bonny boys,
As they play at the ba?
An see na ye Lord Marishal’s son?
I lee him best of a’.

14 ‘But see na ye King Henry’s son?
He’s headit like a bull, and backit like a boar,
I like him warst awa:’
‘And by my sooth,’ says him King Henry,
‘I like him best o the twa.’

15 The King he turned him roun,
Pat on the coat o goud,
. . . .
The Queen turnd the King to behold.

16 . . . .
. . . .
‘Gin I hadna sworn by the crown and sceptre roun,
Earl Marishal sud been gart die.’

Version C

1 THE Queen’s faen sick, and very, very sick,
Sick, and going to die,
And she’s sent for twa friars of France,
To speak with her speedilie.

2 The King he said to the Earl Marischal,
To the Earl Marischal said he,
The Queen she wants twa friars frae France,
To speak with her presentlie.

3 Will ye put on a friar’s coat,
And I’ll put on another,
And we’ll go in before the Queen,
Like friars both together.

4 ‘But O forbid,’ said the Earl Marischal,
‘That I this deed should dee!
For if I beguile Eleanor our queen,
She will gar hang me hie.’

5 The King he turned him round about,
An angry man was he;
He’s sworn by his sceptre and his sword
Earl Marischal should not die.

6 The King has put on a friar’s coat,
Earl Marischal on another,
And they went in before the Queen,
Like friars both together.

7 ‘O, if ye be twa friars of France,
Ye’re dearly welcome to me;
But if ye be twa London friars,
I will gar hang you hie.’

8 ‘Twa friars of France, twa friars of France,
Twa friars of France are we,
And we vow we never spoke to a man
Till we spake to Your Majesty.’

9 ‘The first great sin that eer I did,
And I’ll tell you it presentlie,
Earl Marischal got my maidenhead,
When coming oer the sea.’

10 ‘That was a sin, and a very great sin,
But pardoned it may be;’
‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal,
But a quacking heart had he.

11 ‘The next great sin that eer I did,
I’ll tell you it presentlie;
I carried a box seven years in my breast,
To poison King Henrie.’

12 ‘O that was a sin, and a very great sin,
But pardoned it may be;’
‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal,
But a quacking heart had he.

13 ‘The next great sin that eer I did,
I’ll tell you it presentlie;
I poisoned the Lady Rosamond,
And a very good woman was she.

14 ‘See ye not yon twa bonny boys,
As they play at the ba?
The eldest of them is Marischal’s son,
And I love him best of a’;
The youngest of them is Henrie’s son,
And I love him none at a’

15 ‘For he is headed like a bull, a bull,
He is backed like a boar;’
‘Then by my sooth,’ King Henrie said,
‘I love him the better therefor.’

16 The King has cast off his friar’s coat,
Put on a coat of gold;
The Queen she’s turned her face about,
She could not’s face behold.

17 The King then said to Earl Marischal,
To the Earl Marischal said he,
Were it not for my sceptre and sword,
Earl Marischall, ye should die.

Version D

1 THE queen of England she has fallen sick,
Sore sick, and like to die;
And she has sent for twa French priests,
To bear her companie.

2 The King he has got word o this,
And an angry man was he;
And he is on to the Earl-a-Marshall,
As fast as he can gae.

3 ‘Now you’ll put on a priest’s robe,
And I’ll put on anither,
And we will on unto the Queen,
Like twa French priests thegither.’

4 ‘No indeed!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
‘That winna I do for thee,
Except ye swear by your sceptre and crown
Ye’ll do me nae injurie.’

5 The King has sworn by his sceptre and crown
He’ll do him nae injurie,
And they are on unto the Queen,
As fast as they can gae.

6 ‘O, if that ye be twa French priests,
Ye’re welcome unto me;
But if ye be twa Scottish lords,
High hanged ye shall be.

7 ‘The first sin that I did sin,
And that to you I’ll tell,
I sleeped wi the Earl-a-Marshall,
Beneath a silken bell.

8 ‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
And I pray ye pardon me;’
‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
And a wearied man was he.

9 ‘The neist sin that I did sin,
And that to you I’ll tell,
I keeped the poison seven years in my bosom,
To poison the King himsel.

10 ‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
And I pray ye pardon me;’
‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
And a wearied man was he.

11 ‘O see ye there my seven sons,
A’ playing at the ba?
There’s but ane o them the King’s himsel,
And I like him warst of a’.

12 ‘He’s high-backed, and low-breasted,
And he is bald withal;’
‘And by my deed,’ and says the King,
‘I like him best mysel!

13 ‘O wae betide ye, Earl-a-Marshall,
And an ill death may ye die!
For if I hadna sworn by my sceptre and crown,
High hanged ye should be.’

Version E

1 THE Queen fell sick, and very, very sick,
She was sick, and like to dee,
And she sent for a friar oure frae France,
Her confessour to be.

2 King Henry, when he heard o that,
An angry man was he,
And he sent to the Earl Marshall,
Attendance for to gie.

3 ‘The Quen is sick,’ King Henry cried,
‘And wants to be beshriven;
She has sent for a friar oure frae France,
By the rude, he were better in heaven!

4 ‘But tak you a friar’s guise,
The voice and gesture feign,
And when she has the pardon crav’d,
Respond to her, Amen!

5 ‘And I will be a prelate old,
And sit in a corner dark,
To hear the adventures of my spouse,
My spouse, and her haly spark.’

6 ‘My liege, my liege, how can I betray
My mistress and my queen?
O swear by the rude that no damage
From this shall be gotten or gien!’

7 ‘I swear by the rude,’ quoth King Henry,
‘No damage shall be gotten or gien;
Come, let us spare no cure nor care
For the conscience o the Queen.’

8 ‘O fathers, O fathers, I’m very,very sick,
I’m sick, and like to dee;
Some ghostly comfort to my poor soul
O tell if ye can gie!’

9 ‘Confess, confess,’ Earl Marshall cried,
‘And you shall pardoned be;’
‘Confess, confess,’ the King replied,
‘And we shall comfort gie.’

10 ‘Oh, how shall I tell the sorry, sorry tale!
How can the tale be told!
I playd the harlot wi the Earl Marshall,
Beneath yon cloth of gold.

11 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

12 ‘O down i the forest, in a bower,
Beyond yon dark oak-tree,
I drew a penknife frae my pocket
To kill King Henerie.

13 ?? , wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

14 ‘O do you see yon pretty little boy,
That’s playing at the ba?
He is the Earl Marshall’s only son,
And I loved him best of a’.

15 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

16 ‘And do you see yon pretty little girl,
That’s a’ beclad in green?
She’s a friar’s daughter, oure in France,
And I hoped to see her a queen.

17 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a feart heart still had he.

18 ‘O do you see yon other little boy,
That’s playing at the ba?
He is King Henry’s only son,
And I like him warst of a’.

19 ‘He’s headed like a buck,’ she said,
‘And backed like a bear;’
‘Amen!’ quoth the King, in the King’s ain voice,
‘He shall be my only heir.’

20 The King lookd over his left shoulder,
An angry man was he:
‘An it werna for the oath I sware,
Earl Marshall, thou shouldst dee.’

Version F

1 QUEENE ELEANOR was a sick woman,
And sick just like to die,
And she has sent for two fryars of France,
To come to her speedilie.
And she has sent, etc.

2 The King called downe his nobles all,
By one, by two, by three:
‘Earl Marshall, I’ll go shrive the Queene,
And thou shalt wend with mee.’

3 ‘A boone, a boone!’ quoth Earl Marshall,
And fell on his bended knee,
‘That whatsoever the Queene may say,
No harm thereof may bee.’

4 ‘O you’ll put on a gray-friar’s gowne,
And I’ll put on another,
And we will away to fair London town,
Like friars both together.’

5 ‘O no, O no, my liege, my king,
Such things can never bee;
For if the Queene hears word of this,
Hanged she’ll cause me to bee.’

6 ‘I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon,
And by the stars so hie,
And by my sceptre and my crowne,
The Earl Marshall shall not die.’

7 The King’s put on a gray-friar’s gowne,
The Earl Marshall’s put on another,
And they are away to fair London towne,
Like fryars both together.

8 When that they came to fair London towne,
And came into Whitehall,
The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing,
And the torches did light them all.

9 And when they came before the Queene,
They kneeled down on their knee:
‘What matter, what matter, our gracious queene,
You’ve sent so speedilie?’

10 ‘O, if you are two fryars of France,
It’s you that I wished to see;
But if you are two English lords,
You shall hang on the gallowes-tree.’

11 ‘O we are not two English lords,
But two fryars of France we bee,
And we sang the Song of Solomon,
As we came over the sea.’

12 ‘Oh, the first vile sin I did commit
Tell it I will to thee;
I fell in love with the Earl Marshall,
As he brought me over the sea.’

13 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ quoth the King,
‘But pardond it must bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
With a heavie heart spake hee.

14 ‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit
I will to you unfolde;
Earl Marshall had my virgin dower,
Beneath this cloth of golde.’

15 ‘Oh, that was a vile sin,’ said the King,
‘May God forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ groaned the Earl Marshall,
And a very frightened man was hee.

16 ‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit
Tell it I will to thee;
I poisoned a lady of noble blood,
For the sake of King Henrie.’

17 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King,
‘But pardoned it shall bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
And still a frightened man was he.

18 ‘Oh, the next sin that ever I did
Tell it I will to thee;
I have kept strong poison this seven long years,
To poison King Henrie.’

19 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King,
‘But pardoned it must bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
And still a frightened man was hee.

20 ‘O don’t you see two little boys,
Playing at the football?
O yonder is the Earl Marshall’s son,
And I like him best of all.

21 ‘O don’t you see yon other little boy,
Playing at the football?
O that one is King Henrie’s son,
And I like him worst of all.

22 ‘His head is like a black bull’s head,
His feet are like a bear;’
‘What matter! what matter!’ cried the King,
‘He’s my son, and my only heir.’

23 The King plucked off his fryar’s gowne,
And stood in his scarlet so red;
The Queen she turned herself in bed,
And cryed that she was betrayde.

24 The King lookt oer his left shoulder,
And a grim look looked he;
‘Earl Marshall,’ he said, ’But for my oath,
Thou hadst swung on the gallowes-tree.’

Version G

1 The queen of England she is seek,
And seek and like to dee;
She has sent for friers out of France,
To bespeek hir speed[i]ly.

2 The king has cald on his merrymen,
By thirtys and by threes;
Earl Marshall should have been the formest man,
But the very last man was he.

3 ‘The queen of England s[h]e is seek,
And seek and like to dee,
And she has sent for friers out of France,
To bespeek hir speedyly.

4 ‘But I will put on a frier’s weeg,
And ye’l put on another,
And we’ll away to Quenn Helen gaits,
Like friers both together.’

5 ‘O no, no,’ says Earl Marshall,
‘For this it must not be;
For if the queen get word of that,
High hanged I will be.’

6 ‘But I will swear by my septer and crown,
And by the seas so free,
I will swear by my septer and crown,
Earl Marshall, thow’s no dee.’

7 So he has put on a frier’s wig,
And the king has put on another,
And they are away to Queen Helen gaits,
Like friers both together.

8 When they came to Queen Helen gaits,
They tirled at the pin;
There was non so ready as the queene herself
To open and let them in.

9 ‘O are you two Scottish dogs?-+-
And hanged you shall be-+-
Or are [you] friers come out of France,
To bespeek me speedily?’

10 ‘We are not two Scottish dogs,
Nor hanged we shall be;
For we have not spoken a wrong word
Since we came over the sea.’

11 ‘Well then, the very first that ever I sind
I freely confess to thee;
Earl Marshall took my maidenhead
Below yon greenwood tree.’

12 ‘That is a sin, and very great sin,
But the Pope will pardon thee;’
‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,
But a feert, feert heart had he.

13 ‘The very next sin that ever I sind
I freely confess to thee;
I had [poisen] seven years in my breast
To poisen King Hendry.’

14 ‘That is a sin, and very great sin,
But the Pope forgiveth thee;’
‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,
But a feert, feert heart had he.

15 ‘The very next sin that ever I sind
I freely confess to thee;
I poisened one of my court’s ladies,
Was far more fairer than me.’

16 ‘That is a sin, and a very great sin,
But the Pope forgiveth thee;’
‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,
But a feert, feert heart had he.

17 ‘Do you see yon bony boys,
Playing at the baw?
The oldest of them is Earl Marshall’s,
And I like him best of all.’

18 ‘That is a sin, and very great sin,
But the Pope forgiveth thee;’
‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,
But a feert, feert heart had he.

19 ‘Do ye see two bony [boys],
Playing at the baw?
The youngest of them is King Hendry’s,
And I like him worst of all.

20 ‘Because he is headed like a bull,
And his nose is like a boar;’
‘What is the matter?’ says King Henry,
‘For he shall be my heir.’

21 Now he put off his frier’s wig,
And drest himself [in] red;
She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair,
And s[w]ore she was betraid.

22 ‘Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,
And by the seas so free,
Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,
Earl Marshall, thowst have died.’

157. Gude Wallace

Version A

1 ‘HAD we a king,’ said Wallace then,
‘That our kind Scots might live by their own!
But betwixt me and the English blood
I think there is an ill seed sown.’

2 Wallace him over a river lap,
He lookd low down to a linn;
He was war of a gay lady
Was even at the well washing.

3 ‘Well mot ye fare, fair madam,’ he said,
‘And ay well mot ye fare and see!
Have ye any tidings me to tell,
I pray you’ll show them unto me.’

4 RR’rri have no tidings you to tell,
Nor yet no tidings you to ken;
But into that hostler’s house
There’s fifteen of your Englishmen.

5 ‘And they are seeking Wallace there,
For they’ve ordained him to be slain:’
‘O God forbid!’ said Wallace then,
‘For he’s oer good a kind Scotsman.

6 RR’Brrut had I money me upon,
And evn this day, as I have none,
Then would I to that hostler’s house,
And evn as fast as I could gang.’

7 She put her hand in her pocket,
She told him twenty shillings oer her knee;
Then he took off both hat and hood,
And thankd the lady most reverently.

8 ‘If eer I come this way again,
Well paid [your] money it shall be;’
Then he took off both hat and hood,
And he thankd the lady most reverently.

9 He leand him twofold oer a staff,
So did he threefold oer a tree,
And he’s away to the hostler’s house,
Even as fast as he might dree.

10 When he came to the hostler’s house,
He said, Good-ben be here! quoth he:
An English captain, being deep load,
He asked him right cankerdly,

11 Where was you born, thou crooked carle,
And in what place, and what country?
’Tis I was born in fair Scotland,
A crooked carle although I be.’

12 The English captain swore by th’ rood,
‘We are Scotsmen as well as thee,
And we are seeking Wallace; then
To have him merry we should be.’

13 ‘The man,’ said Wallace, ’ye’re looking for,
I seed him within these days three;
And he has slain an English captain,
And ay the fearder the rest may be.’

14 ‘I’d give twenty shillings,’ said the captain,
‘To such a crooked carle as thee,
If you would take me to the place
Where that I might proud Wallace see.’

15 ‘Hold out your hand,’ said Wallace then,
‘And show your money and be free,
For tho you’d bid an hundred pound,
I never bade a better bode’[, said he].

16 He struck the captain oer the chafts,
Till that he never chewed more;
He stickd the rest about the board,
And left them all a sprawling there.

17 ‘Rise up, goodwife,’ said Wallace then,
‘And give me something for to eat;
For it’s near two days to an end
Since I tasted one bit of meat.’

18 His board was scarce well covered,
Nor yet his dine well scantly dight,
Till fifteen other Englishmen
Down all about the door did light.

19 ‘Come out, come out,’ said they, ‘Wallace!’ then,
‘For the day is come that ye must die;’
And they thought so little of his might,
But ay the fearder they might be.

20 The wife ran but, the gudeman ran ben,
It put them all into a fever;
Then five he sticked where they stood,
And five he trampled in the gutter.

21 And five he chased to yon green wood,
He hanged them all out-oer a grain;
And gainst the morn at twelve o’clock,
He dined with his kind Scottish men.

Version B

1 ‘I WISH we had a king,’ says Wallace,
‘That Scotland might not want a head;
In England and in Scotland baith,
I’m sure that some have sowed ill seed.’

2 Wallace he oer the water did luke,
And he luked law down by a glen,
And he was aware of a gay lady,
As she was at the well washing.

3 ‘Weel may ye save, fair lady!’ he says,
‘Far better may ye save and see!
If ye have ony tidings to tell,
I pray cum tell them a’ to me.’

4 ‘I have no tidings you to tell,
And as few tidings do I ken;
But up and to yon ostler-house
Are just gane fifteen gentlemen.

5 ‘They now are seeking Gude Wallace,
And ay they’re damning him to hang;’
‘Oh God forbid,’ says Wallace then,
‘I’m sure he is a true Scotsman.

6 ‘Had I but ae penny in my pocket,
Or in my company ae baubee,
I woud up to yon ostler-house,
A’ these big gentlemen to see.’

7 She pat her hand into her pocket,
She powd out twenty shillings and three:
‘If eer I live to come this way,
Weel payed shall your money be.’

8 He leaned him twafold oer a staff,
Sae did he twafold oer a tree,
And he’s gane up to the ostler-house,
A’ these fine gentlemen to see.

9 When he cam up among them a’,
He bad his benison be there;
The captain, being weel buke-learnd,
Did answer him in domineer.

10 ‘Where was ye born, ye cruked carl,
Or in what town, or what countree?’
‘O I was born in fair Scotland,
A cruked carl although I be.’

11 The captain sware by the root of his sword,
Saying, I’m a Scotsman as weel as thee;
Here’s twenty shillings of English money
To such a cruked carl as thee,
If thou’ll tell me of that Wallace;
He’s ay the creature I want to see.

12 ‘O hawd your hand,’ says Wallace then,
‘I’m feard your money be not gude;
If ’twere as muckle and ten times mair,
It should not bide another bode.’

13 He’s taen the captain alang the chaps,
A wat he never chawed mair;
The rest he sticked about the table,
And left them a’ a sprawling there.

14 ‘Gude wife,’ he said, ’For my benison,
Get up and get my dinner dight;
For it is twa days till an end
Syne I did taste ane bit of meat.’

15 Dinner was not weel made ready,
Nor yet upon the table set,
When fifteen other Englishmen
Alighted all about the yate.

16 ‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they say,
‘For this is the day ye are to dee;
Ye trust sae mickle in God’s might,
And ay the less we do fear thee.’

17 The gude wife ran but, the gude man ran ben,
They pat the house all in a swither;
Five sune he sticked where he stude,
And five he smitherd in a gutter.

18 Five he chac’d to the gude green-wood,
And hanged them a’ out-oer a pin;
And at the morn at eight o’clock
He din’d with his men at Lough-mabin.

Version C

1 ‘O FOR my ain king,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘The rightfu king of fair Scotland!
Between me and my soverign blude
I think I see some ill seed sawn.’

2 Wallace out over yon river he lap,
And he has lighted low down on yon plain,
And he was aware of a gay ladie,
As she was at the well washing.

3 ‘What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says,
‘What tydins hast thou to tell unto me?
What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says,
‘What tydins hae ye in the south countrie?’

4 ‘Low down in yon wee ostler-house
There is fyfteen Englishmen,
And they are seekin for Gude Wallace,
It’s him to take and him to hang.’

5 ‘There’s nocht in my purse,’ quo Gude Wallace,
There’s nocht, not even a bare pennie;
But I will down to yon wee ostler-house,
Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.’

6 And when he cam to yon wee ostler-house
He bad bendicite be there;
. . . .
. . . .

7 ‘Where was ye born, auld crookit carl?
Where was ye born, in what countrie?’
‘I am a true Scot born and bred,
And an auld crookit carl just sic as ye see.’

8 ‘I wad gie fifteen shillings to onie crookit carl,
To onie crookit carl just sic as ye,
If ye will get me Gude Wallace;
For he is the man I wad very fain see.’

9 He hit the proud captain alang the chafft-blade,
That never a bit o meal he ate mair;
And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat,
And he left them a’ lyin sprawlin there.

10 ‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says,
‘And get to me some dinner in haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’

11 The dinner was na weel readie,
Nor was it on the table set,
Till other fifteen Englishmen
Were a’ lighted about the yett.

12 ‘Come out, come out now, Gude Wallace!
This is the day that thou maun die:’
‘I lippen nae sae little to God,’ he says,
‘Altho I be but ill wordie.’

13 The gudewife had an auld gudeman;
By Gude Wallace he stiffly stood;
Till ten o the fyfteen Englishmen
Before the door lay in their blude.

14 The other five to the greenwood ran,
And he hangd these five upon a grain,
And on the morn, wi his merry men a’,
He sat at dine in Lochmaben town.

Version D

1 ‘I WISH we had our king,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘An ilka true Scotsman had his nawn;
For between us an the southron louns
I doubt some ill seed has been sawn.’

2 Wallace he owre the water gaed,
An looked low down by a glen,
An there he saw a pretty, pretty maid,
As she was at the well washin.

3 ‘O weel may ye wash, my bonny, bonny maid!
An weel may ye saep, an me to see!
If ye have ony tidins to tell,
I pray you tell them unto me.’

4 ‘I have no tidins for to tell,
Nor ony uncos do I ken;
But up into yon little alehouse
An there sits fyfteen Englishmen.

5 ‘An ay they are speakin o Gude Wallace,
An ay they are doomin him to hang:’
‘O forbid!’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘He’s owre truehearted a Scotsman.

6 ‘Had I but a penny in my pouch,
As I have not a single bawbee,
I would up into yon little alehouse,
An ay thae southron blades to see.’

7 She’s put her hand into her pouch,
An counted him out pennies three;
‘If ever I live to come back this way,
Weel paid the money it shall be.’

8 He’s taen a staff into his hand,
An leand himsel outowre a tree,
An he’s awa to yon little alehouse,
An ay the southron louns to see.

9 When he gaed in to that little alehouse,
He bad his bennison be there;
The captain answered him [in] wrath,
He answerd him with domineer.

10 ‘O whare was ye born, ye crooked auld carle?
An how may this your dwellin be?’
‘O I was born in fair Scotland,
A crooked carle altho I be.’

11 ‘O I would een gie twenty shillins
To ony sic crooked carle as thee
That wad find me out Gude Wallace;
For ay that traitor I lang to see.’

12 ‘Haud out your hand,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘I doubt your money be not gude;
If ye’ll gie ither twenty shillins,
It neer shall bide ye anither bode.’

13 He’s taen the captain outowre the jaws,
Anither word spak he neer mair;
An five he sticket whare they sat,
The rest lay scramblin here an there.

14 ‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says,
‘An get some meat ready for me,
For I hae fasted this three lang days;
A wat right hungry I may be.’

15 The meat it wasna weel made ready,
Nor as weel on the table set,
Till there cam fyfteen Englishmen
An lighted a’ about the yett.

16 The gudewife ran but, the gudeman ran ben;
It put them a’ in sic a stoure
That five he sticket whare they sat,
An five lay sprawlin at the door.

17 An five are to the greenwood gane,
An he’s hangd them a’ outowre a tree,
An before the mornin at twal o clock
He dined wi his men at Loch Marie.

Version E

1 WILLIE WALLACE the water lap,
And lighted low down in a glen;
There he came to a woman washing,
And she had washers nine or ten.

2 ‘O weel may ye wash!’ said Willie Wallace,
‘O weel may ye wash!’ said fair Willie,
‘And gin ye have any tidings to tell,
I pray ye tell them unto me.’

3 ‘I have nae tidings for to tell,
And as few will I let ye ken;
But down into yon hosteler-ha
Lies fifteen English gentlemen.’

4 ‘O had I ae penny in my pocket,
O had I yet ane bare bawbee,
I would go to yon hosteler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.

5 ‘O wil ye len me ane pennie,
Or will ye len me a bare bawbee,
I would go to yon hosteler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.’

6 She’s put her hand into her pocket,
And she’s gaen him out guineas three,
And he’s away to yon ostler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.

7 Before he came to the hosteler-ha,
He linkit his armour oer a tree;
These Englishmen, being weel book-learned,
They said to him, Great Dominie!

8 Where was ye born, ye crookit carle?
Where was ye born, or in what countrie?
‘In merry Scotland I was born,
A crookit carle altho I be.’

9 ‘Here’s fifteen shillings,’ one of them said,
‘Here’s other fifteen I’ll gie to thee,
If you will tell me where the traitor Willie Wallace is,
Or where away thou thinks he’ll be.’

10 ‘Pay down, pay down your money,’ he said,
‘Pay down, pay down richt speedilie,
For if your answer be not good,
You shall have the downfall of Robin Hood,’[said he].

11 He struck the captain on the jaw,
He swore that he would chow nae mair cheese;
He’s killed all the rest with his good broadsword,
And left them wallowing on their knees.

12 ‘Go cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Go cover the table, get me some meat,
For it is three days and rather mair
Since I did either drink or eat.’

13 They had not the table weel covered,
Nor yet the candle weel gaen licht,
Till fifteen other Englishmen
They a’ down at the door did light.

14 ‘Come out, come out, Willie Wallace,’ they said.
‘Come out, come out, and do not flee,
For we have sworn by our good broadswords
That this is the nicht that you sall dee.’

15 He’s killed five with his good broadsword,
He’s drowned other five in the raging sea,
And he’s taen other five to the merry greenwood,
And hanged them oer the highest tree.

Version F

1 WALLACE in the high highlans,
Neither meat nor drink got he;
Said, fa me life, or fa me death,
Now to some town I maun be.

2 He’s put on his short claiding,
And on his short claiding put he;
Says, Fa me life, or fa me death,
Now to Perth-town I maun be.

3 He steped oer the river Tay,
I wat he steped on dry land;
He was aware of a well-fared maid,
Was washing there her lilie hands.

4 ‘What news, what news, ye well-fared maid?
What news hae ye this day to me?’
‘No news, no news, ye gentle knight,
No news hae I this day to thee,
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house
Waiting Wallace for to see.’

5 ‘If I had but in my pocket
The worth of one single pennie,
I would go to the hostage-house,
And there the gentlemen to see.’

6 She put her hand in her pocket,
And she has pulld out half-a-crown;
Says, Take ye that, ye belted knight,
’Twill pay your way till ye come down.

7 As he went from the well-fared maid,
A beggar bold I wat met he,
Was coverd wi a clouted cloak,
And in his hand a trusty tree.

8 ‘What news, what news, ye silly auld man?
What news hae ye this day to gie?’
‘No news, no news, ye belted knight,
No news hae I this day to thee,
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house
Waiting Wallace for to see.’

9 ‘Ye’ll lend me your clouted cloak,
That covers you frae head to shie,
And I’ll go to the hostage-house,
Asking there for some supplie.’

10 Now he’s gone to the West-muir wood,
And there he’s pulld a trusty tree;
And then he’s on to the hostage gone,
Asking there for charitie.

11 n the stair the captain comes,
Aye the poor man for to see:
‘If ye be a captain as good as ye look,
Ye’ll give a poor man some supplie;
If ye be a captain as good as ye look,
A guinea this day ye’ll gie to me.’

12 ‘Where were ye born, ye crooked carle?
Where were ye born, in what countrie?’
In fair Scotland I was born,
Crooked carle that I be.’

13 ‘I would give you fifty pounds,
Of gold and white monie,
I would give you fifty pounds,
If the traitor Wallace ye’d let me see.’

14 ‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Tell down your money, if it be good;
I’m sure I have it in my power,
And never had a better bode.

15 ‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘And let me see if it be fine;
I’m sure I have it in my Ower
To bring the traitor Wallace in.’

16 The money was told on the table,
Silver bright of pounds fiftie;
‘Now here I stand,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘And what hae ye to say to me?’

17 He slew the captain where he stood,
The rest they did quack and roar;
He slew the rest around the room,
And askd if there were any more.

18 ‘Come, cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Come, cover the table now, make haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’

19 The table was not well covered,
Nor yet was he set down to dine,
Till fifteen more of the English lords
Surrounded the house where he was in.

20 The guidwife she ran but the floor,
And aye the guidman he ran ben;
From eight o clock till four at noon
He has killd full thirty man.

21 He put the house in sick a swither
That five o them he sticket dead,
Five o them he drownd in the river,
And five hung in the West-muir wood.

22 Now he is on to the North-Inch gone,
Where the maid was washing tenderlie;
‘Now by my sooth,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘It’s been a sair day’s wark to me.’

23 He’s put his hand in his pocket,
And he has pulld out twenty pounds;
Says, Take ye that, ye weel-fared maid,
For the gude luck of your half-crown.

Version G

1 WOUD ye hear of William Wallace,
An sek him as he goes,
Into the lan of Lanark,
Amang his mortal faes?

2 There was fyften English sogers
Unto his ladie cam,
Said, Gie us William Wallace,
That we may have him slain.

3 Woud ye gie William Wallace,
That we may have him slain,
And ye’s be wedded to a lord,
The best in Christendeem.

4 ‘This verra nicht at seven,
Brave Wallace will come in,
And he’ll come to my chamber-door,
Without or dread or din.’

5 The fyften English sogers
Around the house did wait,
And four brave southron foragers
Stood hie upon the gait.

6 That verra nicht at seven
Brave Wallace he came in,
And he came to his ladie’s bouir,
Withouten dread or din.

7 When she beheld him Wallace,
She star’d him in the face;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said that ladie,
‘This is a woful case.

8 ‘For I this nicht have sold you,
This nicht you must be taen,
And I’m to be wedded to a lord,
The best in christendeem.’

9 ‘Do you repent,’ said Wallace,
‘The ill you’ve dane to me?’
‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie,
‘And will do till I die.

10 ‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie,
‘And will do ever still,
And for the ill I’ve dane to you,
Let me burn upon a hill.’

11 ‘Now God forfend,’ says brave Wallace,
‘I shoud be so unkind;
Whatever I am to Scotland’s faes,
I’m aye a woman’s friend.

12 ‘Will ye gie me your gown, your gown,
Your gown but and your kirtle,
Your petticoat of bonny brown,
And belt about my middle?

13 ‘I’ll take a pitcher in ilka hand,
And do me to the well;
They’ll think I’m one of your maidens,
Or think it is yoursell.’

14 She has gien him her gown, her gown,
Her petticoat and kirtle,
Her broadest belt, wi silver clasp,
To bind about his middle.

15 He’s taen a pitcher in ilka hand,
And dane him to the well;
They thought him one of her maidens,
They kend it was nae hersell.

16 Said one of the southron foragers,
See ye yon lusty dame?
I woud nae gie muckle to thee, neebor,
To bring her back agen.

17 Then all the southrons followd him,
And sure they were but four;
But he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slew them pair by pair.

18 He threw the pitchers frae his hands,
And to the hills fled he,
Until he cam to a fair may,
Was washin on yon lea.

19 ‘What news, what news, ye weel-far’d may?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘Ill news, ill news,’ the fair may said,
‘Ill news I hae to thee.

20 ‘There is fyften English sogers
Into that thatched inn,
Seeking Sir William Wallace;
I fear that he is slain.’

21 ‘Have ye any money in your pocket?
Pray lend it unto me,
And when I come this way again,
Repaid ye weel shall be.’

22 She[’s] put her hand in her pocket,
And taen out shillings three;
He turnd him right and round about,
And thankd the weel-far’d may.

23 He had not gone a long rig length,
A rig length and a span,
Until he met a bold beggar,
As sturdy as coud gang.

24 ‘What news, what news, ye bold beggar?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘O heavy news,’ the beggar said,
‘I hae to tell to thee.

25 ‘There is fyften English sogers,
I heard them in yon inn,
Vowing to kill him Wallace;
I fear the chief is slain.’

26 ‘Will ye change apparell wi me, auld man?
Change your apparell for mine?
And when I come this way again,
Ye’ll be my ain poor-man.’

27 When he got on the beggar’s coat,
The pike-staff in his hand,
He’s dane him down to yon tavern,
Where they were drinking wine.

28 ‘What news, what news, ye staff-beggar?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘I hae nae news, I heard nae news,
As few I’ll hae frae thee.’

29 think your coat is ragged, auld man;
But woud you wages win,
And tell where William Wallace is,
We’ll lay gold in your hand.’

30 ‘Tell down, tell down your good red gold,
Upon the table-head,
And ye sall William Wallace see,
Wi the down-come of Robin Hood.’

31 They had nae tauld the money down,
And laid it on his knee,
When candles, lamps, and candlesticks,
He on the floor gard flee.

32 he had drawn his trusty brand,
And slew them one by one,
Then sat down at the table-head,
And called for some wine.

33 The goodwife she ran but, ran but,
The goodman she ran ben,
The verra bairns about the fire
Were a’ like to gang brain.

34 ‘Now if there be a Scotsman here,
He’ll come and drink wi me;
But if there be an English loun,
It is his time to flee.’

35 The goodman was an Englishman,
And to the hills he ran;
The goodwife was a scots woman,
And she came to his hand.

Version H

1 WALLACE wight, upon a night,
Came riding oer the linn,
And he is to his leman’s bower,
And tirld at the pin.

2 ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, lady?’ he said,
‘Ye’ll rise, lat me come in.’
‘O wha’s this at my bower-door,
That knocks, and knows my name?’
‘My name is William Wallace,
Ye may my errand ken.’

3 ‘The truth to you I will rehearse,
The secret I’ll unfold;
Into your enmies’ hands this night
I fairly hae you sold.’

4 ‘If that be true ye tell to me,
Do ye repent it sair?’
‘O that I do,’ she said, ’dear Wallace,
And will do evermair!

5 ‘The English did surround my house,
And forced me theretill;
But for your sake, my dear Wallace,
I coud burn on a hill.’

6 Then he gae her a loving kiss,
The tear droppd frae his ee;
Says, Fare ye well for evermair,
Your face nae mair I’ll see.

7 She dressd him in her ain claithing,
And frae her house he came;
Which made the Englishmen admire,
To see this stalwart dame.

8 He is to Saint Johnston gane,
And there he playd him well;
For there he saw a well-far’d may,
Was washing at a well.

9 ‘What news, wnat news, ye well-far’d may?
What news hae ye to me?
What news, what news, ye well-far’d may,
All from your north countrie?’

10 ‘See ye not yon tavern-house,
That stands on yonder plain?
This very day have landet in it
Full fifteen Englishmen;

11 search of Wallace, our dear champion,
Ordaining that he shoud dee.’
‘Then on my troth,’ said Wallace wight,
‘These Englishmen I’se see.’

Version I

1 ‘I wish I had a king,’ brave Wallace he said,
‘That every brave Scotsman might leave by his oun,
For between me and my sovreign leige
I think I see some ill [seed] sowen.’

2 Brave Wallace out-oer yon river he lap,
And he lighted low down on the plain,
And he came to a gay lady,
As she was at the well washing.

3 ‘Some tidings, some tidings,’ brave Wallace he said,
‘Some tidings ye most tell unto me;
Now since we are met here togither on the plain,
Some tidings ye most tell unto me.’

4 ‘O go ye down to yon wee ale-house,
And there is fifeteen Englishmen,
And they are seeking for good Wallace,
And him to take and him for to hang.’

5 ‘I wish I had a penny in my pocket,’ he says,
‘Or although it were but a bare baubee,
And I wad away to the wee ale-house,
The fifeteen Englishmen to see.’

6 She’s put hir hand in hir left pocket,
And fifeteen shillings to him she told down:
‘If ever I live to come back this way,
The money’s be well paid agein.’

7 He louted twafauld oer a stick,
And he louted threefauld oer a tree,
And he’es gane awa to the wee ale-house,
The fifeteen Englishmen to see.

8 When he came to the wee ale-house,
He walked ben, says, Decencey be there!
The Engilish proud captain he awnsered him,
And he awnsered him with a graid domineer.

9 ‘Why, where wast thou born, thou old crooked carle?
Where and of what country?’
‘I am a true Scotsman bred and born,
And an auld crooked carle, just sic as ye may see.’

10 ‘I wad gee fifeteen shillings,’ the captain he said,
‘To an auld crooked carle, just sic a ane as thee,
If ye wad tell me of Willie Wallace,
For he’s the man I wad fain see.’

11 ‘O hold your hand,’ brave Wallace he said,
‘And let me see if yeer coin be good;
If ye wad give fifeteen shillings more,
Ye never bade a better boad.’

12 He’s tean the captain out-oer the chaft-blade,
Till a bitt of meat he never did eat mair;
He stickit a’ the reste as the sat aroun the table,
And he left them all a spraulling there.

13 ‘Get up, get up, goodwife,’ he says,
‘Get up and get me some denner in haste,
For it is now three days and nights
Since a bit of meat my mouth did taste.’

14 The denner was not well made ready,
Nor was it on the table sett,
Till other fifeteen English men
Were a’ perading about the yett.

15 ‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they crys,
‘For this is the place ye’es sure for [to] die;’
‘I lippen not sae little to good,’ he says,
‘Although I be but ill-wordie.’

16 The goodman ran butt, the goodwife ran ben,
They put the house in such a fever!
Five of them he sticket where they stood,
And other five he smoddered in the gitter.

17 Five of them he folowd to the merry greenwood,
And these five he hangt on a grain,
And gin the morn at ten o’clock
He was wi his mirry men at Lochmaben.

Colophon

This edition transcribes the 305 numbered ballads of Francis James Child's The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company; issued in parts, 1882–1898) from the local sacred-texts.com mirror at neu/eng/child/, itself digitized from a ballad corpus assembled by Cathy Lynn Preston at the University of Colorado rather than scanned directly from the print volumes. All 305 ballad files (ch001–ch305) were verified present and complete against the mirror's own index; no ballad number is missing.

Several defects are disclosed rather than silently repaired, per this library's fidelity standard:

  • Missing critical apparatus. Child's full prose headnotes — the extended discussion of each ballad's history, analogues, and relations to other versions that fills much of the print edition — are not present in this etext. Only the brief manuscript or print source citation Child gave for each version survives. This is the mirror's own stated limitation, not an omission made in preparing this edition.
  • Mismatched front matter. The Preface and the "List of the Principal Collections of English and Scottish Ballads and Songs" carried by the mirror are not the front matter of this 1882–1898 edition. The mirror's own transcriber's note discloses that both were transcribed from Child's earlier, different collection, English and Scottish Ballads (1860, 8 vols.), rather than from The English and Scottish Popular Ballads itself. The mismatched bibliography is omitted here as apparatus that does not belong to this edition; the mismatched preface is reproduced only in Volume 1, as a clearly labelled appendix, for its historical interest.
  • No surviving volume divisions. The mirror's ballad files carry no page numbers, volume markers, or other indication of which of the original five print volumes any given ballad belonged to. This Good Works edition therefore divides the 305 ballads into five volumes by ballad-number range alone — chosen to balance file length at roughly 120,000–135,000 words each — and makes no claim to reproduce Child's original 1882–1898 print-volume boundaries, which are not recoverable from the local source.
  • Publication-year note. The mirror's own title page gives "[1886-98]" for the ballad printing, while its index page gives "[1882-1898]" for the collection as a whole; this edition follows the standard citation, 1882–1898 (the earliest parts appeared in 1882, the final part completing the collection in 1898).
  • One disclosed transcription glitch. Ballad 63 ("Child Waters"), Version A, contains two isolated bracket typos inherited from the mirror — "wee<de]." and "he<r]" — almost certainly transcriber's errors for "wee[de]." and "he[r]" (Child's own square brackets marking an editorial restoration). Both are left exactly as the mirror has them rather than silently corrected, per this library's standard against fabricating source text.
  • Simplified stanza numbering. Child cites a stanza as, e.g., "58A.14" (ballad 58, version A, stanza 14). Under this edition's heading structure the ballad number and version are already given by the section headings, so only the bare stanza number is shown before each stanza, to avoid repeating the same prefix hundreds of times per volume. The full citation is recovered by combining the heading with the stanza number shown.

No ballad text, version, or stanza has been abridged, paraphrased, or modernized. Curly quotation marks and the handful of numeric character references used by the mirror have been decoded to plain Unicode; sacred-texts.com's own site navigation, page-number gutters, and HTML markup have been removed.

Volume 3 covers ballads 100–157 (120,449 words of ballad text in this file).

Prepared for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church with AI-assisted transcription and editorial work.

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