Traditional & Folk Songs with lyrics, midis & Mp3
Robin Hoods Death
Robin Hood's Death
Robin Hood's Death
As Robin Hood and Little John
Walked by a bank of broom,
Said Robin in a mournful voice,
"I fear approaching doom.
"And since the day that we did meet,
Much mirth and joy we saw;
To many a poor man have we given
Since we became outlaw.
"But now, alas! these days are o'er,
For I am taken ill;
I must away to Kirkley Hall
To try physician's skill."
"Fare thee well," said Little John,
"O master dear, farewell;
And when I see your face once more,
Good news I hope you'll tell."
He is away to Kirkley Hall
As fast as he could hie,
But ere that he could reach that length
He was nigh like to die.
And when he came to Kirkley Hall
He knocked and made great noise
His cousin flew to let him in
Full well she knew his voice
"Will you sit down, dear cousin?" she said,
"And drink some wine with me:"
"I will neither eat nor drink
Until I blooded be."
. . . . . . .
When he perceived their treachery,
Away he strove to fly
Out of the window, but could not,
It was so very high.
Then he picked up his bugle horn
That hung down by his knee;
He tried with all his might and main
If he could blow blasts three.
Then Little John heard his master's call
As he sat under a tree.
"I think," said he, "my master's ill,
He blows so wearily."
Then he is away to Kirkley Hall,
Its doors broke open wide,
And when he came to Robin Hood
He knelt down by his side.
"What shall I do, dear master?" he said,
"That you avenged may be?
Shall I burn cursed Kirkley Hall
And all its nunnery?"
"O nay, O nay," said Robin Hood,
"I ne'er in all my life
Burned any kirk nor any nun,
Nor widow, child, nor wife
"Nor shall it now be said of me
In this my dying hour
Upon the head of Christian folks
Destruction I did pour
"Now bring me here my much loved bow.
One arrow I'll let fly,
And wheresoe'er that arrow lights,
There let my body lie
"Let green grass grow upon my grave
By my side my bow so good
At my head a stone that all may read
'Here lies bold Robin Hood'"
Underneath this little stone
Lies Robert, Earl of Huntingdon.
from Arthur Kyle Davis, Jr, Traditional Ballads of Virginia