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ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK
Up then rose this prowde SherefF,
And radly made hym yare; Many was the moder son
To the kyrk with hym can fare.
In at the durres thei throly thrast,
With staves ful gode wone; ' Alas, alas ! ' seid Robyn Hode,
' Now mysse I Litull John.'
But Robyn toke out a two-hond sworde,
That hangit down be his kne ; Thei as the ScherefFand his men stode thyckust,
Thethurwarde wolde he.
Thryes thorowout them he ran then,
Forsothe as I yow sey, And woundyt mony a moder son,
And twelve he slew that day.
His sworde upon the Schereff hed
Sertanly he brake in two; ' The smyth that the made,' seid Robyn,
' I pray to God wyrke hym woo !
' Ffor now am I weppynlesse,' seid Robyn,
' Alasse ! agayn my wylle ; But if I may fie these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kyll.'
radly] quickly. yare] ready. throly thrast] pressed
stubbornly. gode wone] good number, plenty. But if] unless.