The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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' Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seid he,
' Syn I my Savyour see ; To day wil I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
' With the myght of mylde Marye.'
Than spake Moche, the mylner son,— Ever more wel hym betyde !
I Take twelve of thi wyght yemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side. Such on wolde thi selfe slon, That twelve dar not abyde.'
cOf all my mery men,' seid Robyn,
' Be my feith I wil non have, But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.'
x ' Thou shall beyre thin own,' seid Litull John,
' Maister, and I wyl beyre myne, And we well shete a peny,' seid Litull John,
' Under the grene-wode lyne.'
II  wil not shete a peny,' seyd Robyn Hode, 6 In feith, Litull John, with the,
But ever for on as thou shetis,' seide Robyn, ' In feith I holde the thre.'
wyght yemen] sturdy yeomen. slon] slay. shete a peny] shoot for a penny. lyne] linden.        holde] wager.
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