|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
114 A LTTELL GESTE OP KOBYST HODE.
And all that fell in Robyns lote, He smote them wonder sare.
Twyse Eobyn shot aboute,
And ever he cleved the wande, iao
And so dyde good Gylberte
With the Whyte Hand.
Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
For nothynge wolde they spare, When they fayled of the garlonde, 193
Eobyn smote them full sare.
At the last shot that Robyn shot,
For all his frendes fare, Yet he fayled of the garlonde,
Thre fyngers and mare. 200
Than bespake good Gylberte,
And thus he gan say ; " Mayster," he sayd, " your takyll is lost,
Stand forth and take your pay."
" If it be so," sayd Eobyn, 205
" That may no better be; Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,
I pray the, syr, serve thou me."
" It falleth not for myn order," sayd our kynge, " Robyn, by thy leve, 210
192, good whyte, W. lilly white, C.