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But how many merry moones be in the yeere? There are thirteen, I say; The midsummer moone is the merryest of all, Next to the merry month of May. In summer time, when leaves grow green, And flowers are fresh and gay, Robin Hood and his merry men Were disposed to play. 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? "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." 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. "God's blessing on thy heart," said Robin Hood, "That hath such a shot for me; I would ride my horse an hundred miles, To finde one could match with thee." That causd Will Scadlock to laugh, He laughed full heartily: "There lives a curtal frier in Fountains Abby Will beat both him and thee. "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." Robin Hood took a solemn oath, It was by Mary free, That he would neither eat nor drink Till the frier he did see. 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. 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." When Robin came to Fontaines Abey, Whereas that fryer lay, He was ware of the fryer where he stood, And to him thus can he say: "I am a wet weary man," said Robin Hood, "Good fellow, as thou may see; Wilt beare me over this wild water, For sweete Saint Charity?" 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. But when he came over that wild water, A longe sword there he drew: "Beare me backe againe, bold outlawe, Or of this though shalt have enoughe." 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. Then Robin Hood wett his fayre greene hoze A span above his knee; Says "Beare me ore againe, thou cutted fryer Or it shall breed thy gree." 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. And coming to the middle stream, There he threw Robin in: "And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow, Whether thou wilt sink or swim." 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. 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. "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." Robin Hood shot passing well, Till his arrows all were gone; They took their swords and steel bucklers, And fought with might and maine, From ten o'th' clock that day, Till four i'th' afternoon; Then Robin Hood came to his knees, Of the frier to beg a boon. "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." "That I will 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." Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth, He blew but blasts three; Half a hundred yeoman, with bows bent, Came raking over the lee. "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 convent. "I lett thee have a blast on thy horne, Now give me leave to whistle another; I cold not bidd thee noe better play And thou wert my owne borne brother." "Now fate 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." The fryar sett his neave to his mouth, A lowd blast he did blow; Then halfe a hundred good bandoggs Came raking all on a rowe. "Here's for every man a dog, And I myself for thee." "Nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood, "Frier, that may not be. "Over God's forbott," said Robin Hood, "That ever that soe shold bee; I had rather be mached with three of the tikes Ere I wold be matched on thee. "But stay thy tikes, thou fryar," he said, "And freindshipp I'le have with thee; But stay thy tikes, thou fryar" he said, "And save good yeomanry." The fryar he sett his neave to his mouth, A lowd blast he did blow; The doggs the coucht downe every one, They couched downe on a rowe. "What is thy will, thou yeoman?" he said, "Have done and tell it me." "If that thou will goe to merry greenwood, A noble shall be thy fee." "And every holy day throughout the year, Changed shall thy garment be, If thou wilt go to fair Nottingham, And there remain with me." This curtal frier had kept Fountains Dale Seven long years or more; There was neither knight, lord, nor earl Could make him yield before. |
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