Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John, Let us leave talking of Little John, And thinke of Robin Hood, How he is gone to the wight yeoman, Where under the leaves he stood. Good morrowe, good fellowe, sayd Robin so fayre, I am wilfulle of my waye, quo' the yeman, Ile lead thee through the wood, sayd Robin; I seeke an outlawe, the straunger sayd, Rather Ild meet with that proud outlawe Now come with me, thou wighty yeman, First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even, We may chance to meet with Robin Hood They cutt them down two summer shroggs, And sett them threescore rood in twaine Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood, Nay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd, The first time Robin shot at the pricke, The yeoman he was an archer good, The second shoote had the wightye yeman, But Robin he shott far better than hee, A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd; Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he, Nay by my faith, quoth bolde Robin, I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee, My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin, I am Robin Hood of Barnèsdale, He that had neyther beene kithe nor kin, To see how these yeomen together they fought Robin was reachles on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde; And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, Ah deere Lady, sayd Robin Hood thou, I think it was never mans destinye Robin thought on our lady deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with a backward' stroke, He took sir Guys head by the hayre, Robin pulled forth an Irish knife, And nicked sir Guy in the face, Saies, Lye there, lye there, now sir Guye, If thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, Robin did off his gowne of greene, The bowe, the arrowes, and little horne, For I will away to Barnèsdale, To see how my men doe fare. Robin Hood sett Guyes horne to his mouth, Hearken, hearken, sayd the sheriffe, For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, Cladd in his capull hyde. Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy, Aske what thou wilt of mee. OI will none of thy gold, sayd Robin, Nor I will none of thy fee: But now I have slaine the master, he sayes, Let me goe strike the knave; For this is all the rewarde I aske; Nor noe other will I have. Thou art a madman, said the sheriffe, When Little John heard his master speake, Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, Stand abacke, stand abacke, sayd Robin; But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife, And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand, Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand, When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow, Towards his house in Nottingh am towne, He fled full fast away; And soe did all the companye: Not one behind wold stay. But he cold neither runne soe fast, But Little John with an arrowe soe broad, He shott him into the backe-syde. [This ballad is taken from Ritson's Robin Hood,' where it was given from an edition in black letter, printed for I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger, 1686, remaining in the curious library left by Anthony à Wood.' It was written by Martin Parker, a great writer of ballads,' or, as Ritson calls him in another place, ('Ancient Songs, &c., ii. 263), 'a Grub-street scribbler, and great balladmonger of Charles the First's time.' Several of his ballads, Ritson remarks, are still extant in the Pepysian and other collections. The full title of the present ballad, as given by Ritson, is as follows:-'A true tale of Robin Hood; or, A briefe touch of the life and death of that renowned outlaw Robert Earl of Huntingdon, vulgarly called Robin Hood, who lived and dyed in A.D. 1198, being the 9th year of King Riehard the First, commonly called Richard Cœur de Lyon. Carefully collected out of the truest writers of our English chronicles; and published for the satisfaction of those who desire truth from falshood. With regard to the manner of the hero's death, a more particular and somewhat different account is given in another ballad, entitled 'Robin Hood's Death and Burial,' OTH gentlemen and yeomen bold, Or whatsoever you are, To have a stately story told |