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162 EOBIN HOOD AND GUT OF GISBORNE.
As often wordes they breeden bale,
So they parted Robin and John ; »
And John is gone to Barnesdale ; The gates he knoweth eche one.
But when he came to Barnesdale, Great heavinesse there hee hadd,
For he found tow of his owne fellowes, m
Were slaine both in a slade.
And Scarlette he was flying a-foote
Fast over stocke and stone, For the sheriffe with seven score men
Fast after him is gone. &
" One shoote now I will shoote," quoth John, " With Christ his might and mayne ;
He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne."
Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, es
And fetteled him to shoote : The bowe was made of tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.
" Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, That ere thou grew on a tree! to
For now this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee."