I am forc'd to this English wood, 70
And for to seek an uncle of mine,
Some call him Robin Hood."
"But art thou a cousin of Robin Hood then?
The sooner we should have done:"
"As I hope to be sav'd," the stranger then said, 75
"I am his own sisters son."
But, lord! what kissing and courting was there,
When these two cousins did greet!
And they went all that summers day,
And Little John did [not] meet. 80
But when they met with Little John,
He unto them did say,
"O master, pray where have you been,
You have tarried so long away?"
"I met with a stranger," quod Robin Hood, 85
"Full sore he hath beaten me:"
"Then I'le have a bout with him," quod Little John,
"And try if he can beat me."
"Oh [no], oh no," quoth Robin Hood then,
"Little John, it may [not] be so; 90
For he is my own dear sisters son,
And cousins I have no mo.
"But he shall be a bold yeoman of mine,
My chief man next to thee;
And I Robin Hood, and thou Little John, 95
And Scadlock he shall be:
"And weel be three of the bravest outlàws
That live in the north country."
If you will hear more of bold Robin Hood,
In the second part it will be. 100
23, and a. Ritson.
24, full froe.
55, felt. Ritson.
64, won, R.
[PART THE SECOND.[30]]
Now Robin Hood, Will Scadlock, and Little John
Are walking over the plain,
With a good fat buck, which Will Scadlòck
With his strong bow had slain.
"Jog on, jog on," cries Robin Hood, 5
"The day it runs full fast;
For tho' my nephew me a breakfast gave,
I have not yet broke my fast.
"Then to yonder lodge let us take our way,--
I think it wondrous good,-- 10
Where my nephew by my bold yeomèn
Shall be welcom'd unto the greenwood."
With that he took his bugle-horn,
Full well he could it blow;
Streight from the woods came marching down 15
One hundred tall fellows and mo.
"Stand, stand to your arms," says Will Scadlòck,
"Lo! the enemies are within ken:"
With that Robin Hood he laugh'd aloud,
Crying, "They are my bold yeomèn." 20
Who, when they arrived, and Robin espy'd,
Cry'd "Master, what is your will?
We thought you had in danger been,
Your horn did sound so shrill."
"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood, 25
"The danger is past and gone;
I would have you welcome my nephew here,
That has paid me two for one."
In feasting and sporting they pass'd the day,
Till Ph[oe]bus sunk into the deep; 30
Then each one to his quarters hy'd,
His guard there for to keep.
Long had they not walked within the greenwood,
When Robin he soon espy'd
A beautiful damsel all alone,[L35] 35
That on a black palfrey did ride.
Her riding-suit was of sable hew black,
Cypress over her face,
Through which her rose-like cheeks did blush,
All with a comely grace. 40
"Come tell me the cause, thou pretty one,"
Quoth Robin, "and tell me aright,
From whence thou comest, and whither thou goest,
All in this mournful plight?"
"From London I came," the damsel reply'd, 45
"From London upon the Thames,
"Which circled is, O grief to tell!
Besieg'd with foreign arms;
"By the proud prince of Arragon,
Who swears by his martial hand 50
To have the princess to his spouse,
Or else to waste this land;
"Except such champions can be found,
That dare fight three to three,
Against the prince, and giants twain, 55
Most horrid for to see;
"Whose grisly looks, and eyes like brands,
Strike terrour where they come,
With serpents hissing on their helms,
Instead of feathered plume. 60
"The princess shall be the victor's prize,
The king hath vow'd and said,
And he that shall the conquest win,
Shall have her to his bride.
"Now we are four damsels sent abroad, 65
To the east, west, north, and south,
To try whose fortune is so good
To find these champions forth.
"But all in vain we have sought about,
For none so bold there are 70
That dare adventure life and blood,
To free a lady fair."
"When is the day?" quoth Robin Hood,
"Tell me this and no more:"
"On Midsummer next," the dam'sel said, 75
"Which is June the twenty-four."
With that the tears trickled down her cheeks,
And silent was her tongue:
With sighs and sobs she took her leave,
Away her palfrey sprung. 80
The news struck Robin to the heart,
He fell down on the grass;
His actions and his troubled mind
Shew'd he perplexed was.
"Where lies your grief?" quoth Will Scadlòck, 85
"O master, tell to me:
If the damsel's eyes have pierc'd your heart,
I'll fetch her back to thee."
"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood,
"She doth not cause my smart; 90
But 'tis the poor distress'd princèss,
That wounds me to the heart.
"I'll go fight the giants all
To set the lady free:"
"The devil take my soul," quoth Little John, 95
"If I part with thy company."
"Must I stay behind?" quoth Will Scadlòck,
"No, no, that must not be;
I'le make the third man in the fight,
So we shall be three to three." 100
These words cheer'd Robin to the heart,
Joy shone within his face;
Within his arms he hugged them both,
And kindly did imbrace.
Quoth he, "We'll put on motley gray, 105
And long staves in our hands,
A scrip and bottle by our sides,
As come from the holy land.
"So may we pass along the high-way,
None will ask from whence we came, 110
But take us pilgrims for to be,
Or else some holy men."
Now they are on their journey gone,
As fast as they may speed,
Yet for all their haste, ere they arriv'd, 115
The princess forth was led,
To be deliver'd to the prince,
Who in the list did stand,
Prepar'd to fight, or else receive
His lady by the hand. 120
With that he walk'd about the lists,
With giants by his side:
"Bring forth," said he, "your champions,
Or bring me forth my bride.
"This is the four and twentieth day, 125
The day prefixt upon:
Bring forth my bride, or London burns,
I swear by Alcaron."[L128]
Then cries the king, and queen likewise,
Both weeping as they spake, 130
"Lo! we have brought our daughter dear,
Whom we are forc'd to forsake."
With that stept out bold Robin Hood,
Crys, "My liege, it must not be so;
Such beauty as the fair princèss 135
Is not for a tyrant's mow."
The prince he then began to storm,
Cries, "Fool, fanatick, baboon!
How dare you stop my valour's prize?
I'll kill thee with a frown." 140
"Thou tyrant Turk, thou infidel,"
Thus Robin began to reply,
"Thy frowns I scorn; lo! here's my gage,
And thus I thee defie.
"And for those two Goliahs there, 145
That stand on either side,
Here are two little Davids by,
That soon can tame their pride."
Then the king did for armour send,
For lances, swords, and shields: 150
And thus all three in armour bright
Came marching to the field.
The trumpets began to sound a charge,
Each singled out his man;
Their arms in pieces soon were hew'd, 155
Blood sprang from every vain.
The prince he reacht Robin Hood a blow,
He struck with might and main,
Which forc'd him to reel about the field,
As though he had been slain. 160
"God-a-mercy," quoth Robin, "for that blow!
The quarrel shall soon be try'd;
This stroke shall shew a full divorce
Betwixt thee and thy bride."
So from his shoulders he's cut his head, 165
Which on the ground did fall,
And grumbling sore at Robin Hood,
To be so dealt withal.
The giants then began to rage
To see their prince lie dead: 170
"Thou's be the next," quoth little John,
"Unless thou well guard thy head."
With that his faulchion he wherled about,
It was both keen and sharp;
He clove the giant to the belt, 175
And cut in twain his heart.
Will Scadlock well had play'd his part,
The giant he had brought to his knee;
Quoth Will, "The devil cannot break his fast,
Unless he have you all three." 180
So with his faulchion he run him through,
A deep and ghastly wound;
Who dam'd and foam'd, curst and blasphem'd,
And then fell to the ground.
Now all the lists with shouts were fill'd, 185
The skies they did resound,
Which brought the princess to herself,
Who had fal'n in a swound.
The king and queen and princess fair,
Came walking to the place, 190
And gave the champions many thanks,
And did them further grace.
"Tell me," quoth the king, "whence you are,
That thus disguised came,
Whose valour speaks that noble blood 195
Doth run through every vain."
"A boon, a boon," quoth Robin Hood,
"On my knees I beg and crave;"
"By my crown," quoth the king, "I grant;
Ask what, and thou shalt have." 200
"Then pardon I beg for my merry men,
Which are in the green-wood,
For Little John, and Will Scadlock,
And for me bold Robin Hood."
"Art thou Robin Hood?" then quoth the king; 205
"For the valour thou hast shewn,
Your pardons I do freely grant,
And welcome every one.
"The princess I promis'd the victor's prize;[L209]
She cannot have you all three." 210
"She shall chuse," quoth Robin; said Little John,
"Then little share falls to me."
Then did the princess view all three,
With a comely lovely grace,
And took Will Scadlock by the hand, 215
Saying "Here I make my choice."
With that a noble lord stept forth,
Of Maxfield earl was he,
Who look'd Will Scadlock in the face,
And wept most bitterly. 220
Quoth he, "I had a son like thee,
Whom I lov'd wondrous well;
But he is gone, or rather dead,
His name it is young Gamwell."
Then did Will Scadlock fall on his knees, 225
Cries, "Father! father! here,
Here kneels your son, your young Gamwell,
You said you lov'd so dear."
But, lord! what imbracing and kissing was there,
When all these friends were met! 230
They are gone to the wedding, and so to bedding:
And so I bid you good night.
35, Of a.
128, Acaron.
209, promise. Ritson.
[30] "This (from an old black-letter copy in Major Pearson's
collection) is evidently the genuine second part of the present
ballad: although constantly printed as an independent article, under
the title of _Robin Hood, Will Scadlock, and Little John; Or, a
narrative of their victories obtained against the prince of Aragon and
the two giants; and how Will Scadlock married the princess_. _Tune of
Robin Hood; or, Hey down, down, a down._" Instead of which, in all
former editions, are given the following incoherent stanzas, which
have all the appearance of being the fragment of a quite different
ballad:
Then bold Robin Hood to the north he would go,
With valour and mickle might,
With sword by his side, which oft had been tri'd,
To fight and recover his right.
The first that he met was a bonny bold Scot,
His servant he said he would be:
"No," quoth Robin Hood, "it cannot be good,
For thou wilt prove false unto me.
"Thou hast not been true to sire nor cuz."
"Nay, marry," the Scot, he said,
"As true as your heart, Ile never part,
Gude master, be not afraid."
Then Robin turned his face to the east,
"Fight on, my merry men stout;
Our cause is good," quod brave Robin Hood,
"And we shall not be beaten out."
The battel grows hot on every side,
The Scotchman made great moan:
Quoth Jockey, "Gude faith, they fight on each side,
Would I were with my wife Joan!"
The enemy compast brave Robin about,
'Tis long ere the battel ends;
Ther's neither will yield, nor give up the field,
For both are supplied with friends.
This song it was made in Robin Hoods dayes:
Let's pray unto Jove above,
To give us true peace, that mischief may cease,
And war may give place unto love.
RITSON.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE SCOTCHMAN.
Given in Gutch's _Robin Hood_, ii. 392, from an Irish Garland, printed
at Monaghan, 1796.
This piece is the same as the fragment usually printed as the Second
Part of _Robin Hood and the Stranger_, (see p. 409,) and both are
undoubtedly relics of some older ballad.
Now bold Robin Hood to the north would go
With valour and mickle might;
With sword by his side, which oft had been try'd,
To fight and recover his right.
The first that he met was a jolly stout Scot, 5
His servant he said he would be;
"No," quoth Robin Hood, "it cannot be good,
For thou wilt prove false unto me.
"Thou has not been true to sire or cuz;"
"Nay, marry," the Scot he said, 10
"As true as your heart, I never will part;
Good master, be not afraid."
"But e'er I employ you," said bold Robin Hood,
"With you I must have a bout;"
The Scotchman reply'd, "Let the battle be try'd, 15
For I know I will beat you out."
Thus saying, the contest did quickly begin,
Which lasted two hours and more;
The blows Sawney gave bold Robin so brave,
The battle soon made him give o'er. 20
"Have mercy, thou Scotchman," bold Robin Hood cry'd,
"Full dearly this boon have I bought;
We will both agree, and my man you shall be,
For a stouter I never have fought."
Then Sawny consented with Robin to go, 25
To be of his bowmen so gay;
Thus ended the fight, and with mickle delight
To Sherwood they hasted away.
THE PLAYE OF ROBYN HODE.
From Ritson's _Robin Hood_, ii. 192.
Printed by Copland at the end of his edition of the _Lytell Geste_.
The whole title runs: _Here beginnethe the playe of Robyn Hoode, very
proper to be played in Maye games_. A few corrections were made by
Ritson from White's edition of 1634.
The fragment here preserved is founded upon the ballads of _Robin Hood
and the Curtall Fryer_, (p. 271,) and _Robin Hood and the Potter_ (p.
17.) Were the whole play recovered, we should probably find it a _pot
pourri_ of the most favorite stories of Robin Hood.
ROBYN HODE.
Now stand ye forth, my mery men all,
And harke what I shall say;
Of an adventure I shal you tell,
The which befell this other day.
As I went by the hygh way,
With a stout frere I met,
And a quarter-staffe in his hande.
Lyghtely to me he lept,
And styll he bade me stande.
There were strypes two or three, 10
But I cannot tell who had the worse,
But well I wote the horeson lept within me,
And fro me he toke my purse.
Is there any of my mery men all,
That to that frere wyll go,
And bryng hym to me forth withall,
Whether he wyll or no?
LYTELL JOHN.
Yes, mayster, I make god a vowe,
To that frere wyll I go,
And bring him to you, 20
Whether he wyl or no.
FRYER TUCKE.
_Deus hic, deus hic_, god be here!
Is not this a holy worde for a frere?
God save all this company!
But am not I a jolly fryer?
For I can shote both farre and nere,
And handle the sworde and bucklèr,
And this quarter-staffe also.
If I mete with a gentylman or yemàn,
I am not afrayde to loke hym upon, 30
Nor boldly with him to carpe;
If he speake any wordes to me,
He shall have strypes two or thre,
That shal make his body smarte.
But, maisters, to shew you the matter,[L35]
Wherfore and why I am come hither,
In fayth I wyl not spare.
I am come to seke a good yeman,
In Bernisdale men sai is his habitacion,
His name is Robyn Hode. 40
And if that he be better man than I,
His servaunt wyll I be, and serve him truely;
But if that I be better man than he,
By my truth my knave shall he be,
And leade these dogges all three.
ROBYN HODE.
Yelde the, fryer, in thy long cote.
FRYER TUCKE.
I beshrew thy hart, knave, thou hurtest my throt.
ROBYN HODE.
I trowe, fryer, thou beginnest to dote;
Who made the so malapert and so bolde,
To come into this forest here, 50
Amonge my falowe dere?
FRYER.
Go louse the, ragged knave.
If thou make mani wordes, I will geve the on the eare,
Though I be but a poore fryer.
To seke Robyn Hode I am com here,
And to him my hart to breke.
ROBYN HODE.
Thou lousy frer, what wouldest thou with hym?
He never loved fryer, nor none of freiers kyn.
FRYER.
Avaunt, ye ragged knave!
Or ye shall have on the skynne. 60
ROBYN HODE.
Of all the men in the morning thou art the worst,
To mete with the I have no lust;
For he that meteth a frere or a fox in the morning,
To spede ill that day he standeth in jeoperdy.[L64]
Therfore I had lever mete with the devil of hell,
(Fryer, I tell the as I thinke,)
Then mete with a fryer or a fox
In a mornyng, or I drynk.
FRYER.
Avaunt, thou ragged knave, this is but a mock;
If thou make mani words thou shal have a knock.[L70] 70
ROBYN HODE.
Harke, frere, what I say here:
Over this water thou shalt me bere,
The brydge is borne away.
FRYER.
To say naye I wyll not:
To let the of thine oth it were great pitie and sin,
But up on a fryers backe, and have even in.
ROBYN HODE.
Nay, have over.
FRYER.
Now am I, frere, within, and thou, Robin, without,
To lay the here I have no great doubt.
Now art thou, Robyn, without, and I, frere, within, 80
Lye ther, knave; chose whether thou wilte sinke or swym.
ROBYN HODE.
Why, thou lowsy frere, what hast thou done?[L82]
FRYER.
Mary, set a knave over the shone.
ROBYN HODE.
Therfore thou shalt abye.
FRYER.
Why, wylt thou fyght a plucke?
ROBYN HODE.
And god send me good lucke.
FRYER.
Than have a stroke for fryer Tucke.
ROBYN HODE.
Holde thy hande, frere, and here me speke.
FRYER.
Say on, ragged knave,
Me semeth ye begyn to swete. 90
ROBYN HODE.
In this forest I have a hounde,
I wyl not give him for an hundreth pound.
Geve me leve my home to blowe,
That my hounde may knowe.
FRYER.
Blowe on, ragged knave, without any doubte,
Untyll bothe thyne eyes starte out.
Here be a sorte of ragged knaves come in,
Clothed all in Kendale grene,
And to the they take their way nowe.
ROBYN HODE.
Peradventure they do so. 100
FRYER.
I gave the leve to blowe at thy wyll,
Now give me leve to whistell my fyll.
ROBYN HODE.
Whystell, frere, evyl mote thou fare,
Untyll bothe thyne eyes stare[L104].
FRYER.
Now Cut and Bause!
Breng forth the clubbes and staves,
And downe with those ragged knaves!
ROBYN HODE.
How sayest thou, frere, wylt thou be my man,
To do me the best servyse thou can?
Thou shalt have both golde and fee, 110
And also here is a lady free,
I wyll geve her unto the,
And her chapplayn I the make,
To serve her for my sake.
FRYER.
Here is a huckle duckle, an inch above the buckle;
She is a trul of trust, to serve a frier at his lust,
A prycker, a prauncer, a terer of shetes,[L117]
A wagger of buttockes[L118] when other men slepes.
Go home, ye knaves, and lay crabbes in the fyre,
For my lady and I wil daunce in the myre, 120
For veri pure joye.
ROBYN HODE.
Lysten, to [me], my mery men all,
And harke what I shall say;
Of an adventure I shall you tell,
That befell this other daye.
With a proude potter I met,
And a rose garlande on his head,
The floures of it shone marvaylous freshe;
This seven yere and more he hath used this waye,
Yet was he never so curteyse a potter, 130
As one peny passage to paye.
Is there any of my mery men all
That dare be so bolde
To make the potter paie passage,
Either silver or golde?
LYTELL JOHN.
Not I master, for twenty pound redy tolde,
For there is not among us al one
That dare medle with that potter, man for man.
I felt his handes not long agone,
But I had lever have ben here by the, 140
Therfore I knowe what he is.
Mete him when ye wil, or mete him whan ye shal,
He is as propre a man as ever you medle withal.
ROBYN HODE.
I will lai with the, Litel John, twenti pound so read,
If I wyth that potter mete,
I wil make him pay passage, maugre his head.
LETTEL JOHN.
I consente therto, so eate I bread,
If he pay passage maugre his head,
Twenti pound shall ye have of me for your mede.
THE POTTERS BOY JACKE.
Out alas, that ever I sawe this daye! 150
For I am clene out of my waye
From Notyngham towne;
If I hye me not the faster,
Or I come there the market wel be done.[L154]
ROBYN HODE.
Let me se, are thy pottes hole and sounde?[L155]
JACKE.
Yea, meister, but they will not breake the ground.
ROBYN HODE.
I wil them breke, for the cuckold thi maisters sake;
And if they will breake the grounde,[L158]
Thou shalt have thre pence for a pound.
JACKE.
Out alas! what have ye done? 160
If my maister come, he will breke your crown.
THE POTTER.
Why, thou horeson, art thou here yet?
Thou shouldest have bene at markèt.
JACKE.
I met with Robin Hode, a good yemàn,
He hath broken my pottes,
And called you kuckolde by your name.
THE POTTER.
Thou mayst be a gentylman, so god me save,
But thou semest a noughty knave.
Thou callest me cuckolde by my name,
And I swere by god and saynt John 170
Wyfe had I never none.
This cannot I denye,
But if thou be a good felowe,
I wil sel mi horse, mi harneis, pottes and paniers to,
Thou shalt have the one halfe and I will have the other;
If thou be not so content,
Thou shalt have stripes, if thou were my brother.
ROBYN HODE.
Harke, potter, what I shall say:
This seven yere and more thou hast used this way,
Yet were thou never so curteous to me, 180
As one penny passage to paye.
THE POTTER.
Why should I pay passage to thee?
ROBYN HODE.
For I am Robyn Hode, chiefe gouernoure
Under the grene woode tree.
THE POTTER.
This seven yere have I used this way up and downe,
Yet payed I passage to no man,
Nor now I wyl not beginne, so do the worst thou can.[L187]
ROBYN HODE.
Passage shalt thou pai here under the grene-wode tre,
Or els thou shalt leve a wedde with me.[L189]
THE POTTER.
If thou be a good felowe, as men do the call, 190
Laye awaye thy bowe,
And take thy sword and buckeler in thy hande,
And see what shall befall.
ROBIN HODE.
Lyttle John, where art thou?
LYTTEL [JOHN].
Here, mayster, I make god a vowe.
I tolde you, mayster, so god me save,
That you shoulde fynde the potter a knave.[L197]
Holde your buckeler faste in your hande,
And I wyll styfly by you stande,
Ready for to fyghte; 200
Be the knave never so stoute,
I shall rappe him on the snoute,
And put hym to flyghte.
35, maister, C.
64 ell, C.
70 You, you, C.
82, donee, C.
104, starte, C.
117, shefes, C.
118, ballockes, C.
154, maryet, C.
155, the, C.
158, not breake, in C.
187, to do, C.; _to_ or _so_ omitted in W.
189, wedded, C, wed, W.
197, your, C.
FRAGMENT OF AN INTERLUDE (?) OF ROBIN HOOD.
The lines which follow would seem to be part of an Interlude, in
which, as in the play just given, the incidents of several ballads are
rudely combined. The present fragment is manifestly founded on _Robin
Hood and Guy of Gisborne_. We owe this curious relic to a
correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ (vol. xii. p. 321), who found it
in an interleaved copy of _Robin Hood's Garland_, formerly belonging
to Dr. Stukely, the inventor of the preposterous pedigree of Robin
Hood. The Doctor has prefixed these remarks:--"It is not to be
doubted but that many of subsequent songs are compiled from old
ballads wrote in the time, or soon after Robin Hood, with alterations
from time to time into the more modern language. Mr. Le Neve (Norroy)
has a large half-sheet of paper which was taken from the inside of
some old book, which preserves in an old hand a fragment of this sort.
On the back of it is wrote, among other accounts, this, 'It^m, R. S.
of Richard Whitway, penter for his house, sent in full payment, jx.
_s._, the vij. day of November, Edw'^d iij. xv.'; and in a later hand
as follows."
"Syr Sheryffe, for thy sake
Robyn Hode wull y take."
I wyll the gyffe golde and fee,
This beheste thow holde me.
"Robyn Hode ffayre and fre, 5
Undre this lynde shote we."
With the shote y wyll,
Alle thy lustes to fullfyll.
"Have at the pryke,"
And y cleve the styke. 10
"Late us caste the stone,"
I grante well, be Seynte John.
"Late us caste the exaltrè,"
Have a foote before the.
Syr knyght, ye have a falle. 15
"And I the, Robyn, qwyte shall.
Owte on the, I blewe my horne,
Hitt ware better be unborne."
"Let us fight at oltrance.
"He that fleth, God gyfe hym myschaunce." 20
Now I have the maystry here,
Off I smyte this sory swyre.
This knygthys clothis wolle I were,
And on my hede his hyde will bere.[L24]
Well mete, felowe myn.[L25] 25
What herst thou of gode Robyn?
"Robyn Hode and his menye
With the Sheryffe takyn be."
Sette on foote with gode wyll,
And the Sheryffe wull we kyll. 30
Beholde wele Frere Tuke,
Howe he dothe his bowe pluke.
"Yeld yow, Syrs, to the Sheryffe,
Or elles shall ye blowes pryffe[L34]."
Now we be bounden alle in same; 35
Frere Tuke, this is no game.
"Come thou forth, thou fals outlawe;
Thou shall be hangyde and y-drawe."
Now alias, what shall we doo!
We moste to the prysone goo." 40
Opyn the gates faste anon,[L41]
And [late] theis thevys ynne gon."[L42]
24, hede.
25, folowe.
34, elyffe.
41, ory the yatn.
42, theif thouys yune.
BY LANDS-DALE HEY HO.
"This strange and whimsical performance is taken from a very rare and
curious publication, entitled _Deuteromelia_: _or the second part of
musicks melodie, or melodius musicke_, 1609.
"In the collection of old printed ballads made by Anthony à Wood, is
an inaccurate copy of this ancient and singular production, in his own
hand-writing. "'This song,' says he, 'was esteemed an old song before
the rebellion broke out in 1641.'" RITSON's _Robin Hood_, ii. 204.
By Lands-dale hey ho,
By mery Lands-dale hey ho,
There dwelt a jolly miller,
And a very good old man was he, hey ho.
He had, he had and a sonne a, 5
Men called him Renold,
And mickle of his might
Was he, was he, hey ho.
And from his father a wode a,
His fortune for to seeke, 10
From mery Lands-dale
Wode he, wode he, hey ho.
His father would him seeke a,
And found him fast asleepe;
Among the leaves greene 15
Was he, was he, hey ho.
He tooke, he tooke him up a,
All by the lilly-white hand,
And set him on his feet,
And bad him stand, hey ho. 20
He gave to him a benbow,
Made all of a trusty tree,
And arrowes in his hand,
And bad him let them flee.