ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE

When woods are bright and branches full fair,
And leaves both large and long,
It is merry, walking in the fair forest,
To hear the small birds sing.

The woodwall sang, and would not cease,
Amongst the leaves of the lime.
"And it is by two sturdy yeoman, 
By dear God, that I mean.

"I thought they did beat and bind me,
And took my bow from me;
If I am Robin, alive in this land,
I'll be revenged on both them two." 

"Dreams are swift, master," said John, 
"As the wind that blows over a hill, 
For if it were not so loud this night, 
Tomorrow it would be still."

"Prepare you, ready you, my merry men all, 
For John shall go with me,
For I'll go seek the sturdy yeomen
In the greenwood where they are." 

The cast on their gowns of green, 
To shoot they are gone,
Until they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they were happy to be;
There were aware of a sturdy yeoman, 
His body leaned against a tree.

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
It had been many a man's bane, 
And he was clad in his horse-hide, 
Top, and tail, and main.

"Stand still, master," said Little John,
"Under this trusty tree, 
And I will go to that sturdy yeoman,
To know his meaning truly."

"Ay, John, by me you set no store,
And that's an amazing thing; 
How often do I send my men before me,
And stay myself behind?

"It is not cunning to know a knave,
If a man but hear him speak;
And if it were not for the fact that my bow would burst,
John, I would break your head."

But often words breed anger, 
Thus Robin and John parted;
John has gone to Barnsdale,
The gates he knows every one.

And when he came to Barnsdale,
Great heaviness he had there;
He found two of his own fellows
Were slain both in a glade, 

And Scarlett was running on foot,
Over stumps and stones,
For the sheriff, with seven score men,
Was gone fast after him.

"Yet, one shot I'll shoot," said Little John,
"With Christ his might and main;
I'll make that fellow that runs so fast
To be both glad and happy." 

John bent a good yew-bow, 
And prepared to shoot; 
The bow was made of a tender bough,
And fell down broken to his foot.

"Woe come to you, wicked wood," said Little John,
"That ever grew on a tree!
For this day you are my misery, 
My you should have been my help!" 

This shot was loosely shot,
The arrow flew in vain,
And it met one of the sheriff's men;
Good William of Trent was slain.

It would had been better for William of Trent
To hang upon a gallows
Than to lie in the greenwood,
slain there with an arrow.

And it is said, when men meet,
Six can do more then three:
And the sheriff's men have taken Little John, 
And bound him to a tree.

"You will be drawn by a horse,"
  said the sheriff,
"And hanged high on a hill."
"But you may fail," said Little John,
"If it be Christ's own will."

Let us leave talking of Little John,
For he is bound fast to a tree,
And talk of Guy and Robin Hood,
In the greenwood where they are.

How these two yeomen met together,
To see what business they had
At that same time.

"Good morrow, good fellow," said Sir Guy;
"Good morrow, good fellow," said he,
"I think by the bow you bear in your hand,
A good archer you seem to be."

"I am uncertain of my way," said Sir Guy, 
"And of what time in the morning it is." 
"I'll lead you through the wood," said Robin,
"Good fellow, I'll be your guide."

"I seek an outlaw," said Sir Guy,
"Men call him Robin Hood;
I would rather meet with him upon this day,
Then with forty pounds of gold."

"If you two met, it would be seen whether it were better
you did part straight away;
Let us find some other pastime,
Good fellow, I pray you.

"Let us some other masteries make, 
And we will walk even in these woods;
We may chance to meet with Robin Hood
At some unexpected occasion." 

They both cut down the summer bushes 
Which grew under a briar,
And set them 315 yards apart,
To shoot the pricks full near.

"Go first, good fellow," said Sir Guy,
"Go first, I do bid you."
"No, by my faith," said Robin Hood,
"The first you shall be."

The first good shot that Robin made
Did not shoot an inch from the prick;
Guy was a good enough archer,
But he could never shoot so well.

The second shot made by Sir Guy,
He shot within the garland; 
But Robin Hood shot better than him,
For he cleaved the good prick-wand.

"God's blessing on your heart!" said Guy,
"Good fellow, your shooting is good,
For if your heart is as good as your hands, 
You'd be better then Robin Hood.

"Tell me your name, good fellow," said Guy,
"Under these leaves of lime."
"No, by my faith," said good Robin,
"No until you have told me yours."

"I dwell by dale and down," said Guy,
"And I have done many a cursed turn; 
And he that calls me by my right name
Calls me Guy of good Gisborne."

"My dwelling is in the wood," said Robin,
"By you I say right enough;
My name is Robin Hood of Barnsdale,
A fellow you have long sought."

He that had neither been kith nor kin 
Might have seen a full fair sight,
To see how together these yeomen went,
With blades both brown and bright. 

To have seen how these yeomen together fought,
Two hours of a summer's day; 
It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood
That prepared to run away. 

Robin was careless on a tree root, 
And stumbled at that tide,
And Guy was quick and nimble withall,
And hit him over the left side.

"Ah, dear Lady!" said Robin Hood, 
"You are both mother and maiden! 
I think it was never man's destiny
To die before his day."

Robin thought on Our Lady dear,
And soon leapt up again,
And thus he came with an awkward stroke;
Good Sir Guy he had slain.

He took Sir Guy's head by the hair, 
And stuck it on his bow's end:
"You have been traitor all your life,
This thing must have an end."

Robin pulled out an Irish knife,
And nicked Sir Guy in the face,
That he who was born of a woman
Could never tell who Sir Guy was, 

Saying, "Lie there, lie there, good Sir Guy,
And be not made with me;
If you have had the worse strokes at my hand,
You shall have the better clothing."

Robin took off his gown of green,
On threw it on Sir Guy; 
And he put on that horse's-hide,
That clad him top to toe.

"Your bow, your arrows, and little horn,
with me now I'll bear;
For now I will go to Barnsdale,
To see how my men fare."

Robin set Guy's horn to his mouth,
A loud blast in it he did blow;
That the sheriff of Nottingham heard,
As he leaned under a hill. 

"Hearken! hearken!" said the sheriff,
"I heard no tidings but good,
For I hear Sir Guy's horn blow,
For he has slain Robin Hood.

"For I hear Sir Guy's horn blow,
It blows so well in time,
For here comes that brave yeoman,
Clad in his horse's-hide.

"Come here, good Sir Guy,
Ask of me what you will have."
"I'll have none of your gold," said Robin Hood,
"None of it I will have."

"But now that I have slain the master," he said,
"Let me go strike the knave; 
This is all the reward I ask,
Nor none other I will have."

"You are a madman," said the sheriff,
"You should have had a knight's fee;
Seeing as what you ask is so bad,
Well granted it shall be."

But Little John heard his master speak,
He knew well that was his voice; 
"Now shall I be loosed," said Little John, 
"With Christ's might in heaven."

But Robin hastened towards Litle John, 
He thought he would loose him at once; 
The sheriff and all his company
Fast after him did drive.

"Stand back! Stand back!" said Robin;
"Why do you draw so near to me?
It was never the custom in our country
One should hear another's confession." 

But Robin pulled out an Irish knife,
And loosed John's hand and foot,
And gave him Sir Guy's bow in his hand,
And bade it be his salvation. 

John took Guy's bow in his hand.
His arrows were rusted with blood at the root; 
The sheriff saw Litle John draw a bow
And prepare himself to shoot. 

Towards his house in Nottingam
He fled full fast away,
And so did all his company,
Not one did stay behind.

But none could neither go so fast,
Nor run so fast away,
But Litle John, with an arrow broad,
Didn't cleave his heart in twain.