“Now ye be corn hom to Notynggam, Ye schall haffe god ynowe;” Now speke we of Roben Hode, And of the pottyr onder the grene bowhe. “Potter, what was they pottys worthe To Notynggam that y ledde with me?” “They wer worth two nobellys,” seyd he, “So mot y treyffe or the; So cowde y had for tham, And y had ther be.” “Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,” seyde Roben, “Of money feyr and fre; And yever whan thou comest to grene wod, Wellcom, potter to me.” Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter, Ondernethe the grene-wod tre; God haffe mersey on Robyn Hodys solle, And saffe all god yemanrey! ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER COME, all you brave gallants, and listen awhile, _With hey down_, _down_, _an a down_, That are in the bowers within; For of Robin Hood, that archer good, A song I intend for to sing. Upon a time it chancèd so, Bold Robin in forrest did ’spy A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare, With his flesh to the market did hye. “Good morrow, good fellow,” said jolly Robin, “What food hast [thou]? tell unto me; Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell, For I like well thy company.” The butcher he answer’d jolly Robin, “No matter where I dwell; For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham I am going, my flesh to sell.” “What’s [the] price of thy flesh?” said jolly Robin, “Come, tell it soon unto me; And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear, For a butcher fain would I be.” “The price of my flesh,” the butcher repli’d, “I soon will tell unto thee; With my bonny mare, and they are not too dear, Four mark thou must give unto me.” “Four mark I will give thee,” saith jolly Robin, “Four mark it shall be thy fee; The mony come count, and let me mount, For a butcher I fain would be.” Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone, His butchers trade to begin; With good intent to the sheriff he went, And there he took up his inn. When other butchers did open their meat, Bold Robin he then begun; But how for to sell he knew not well, For a butcher he was but young. When other butchers no meat could sell, Robin got both gold and fee; For he sold more meat for one peny Then others could do for three. But when he sold his meat so fast, No butcher by him could thrive; For he sold more meat for one peny Than others could do for five. Which made the butchers of Nottingham To study as they did stand, Saying, “Surely he ‘is’ some prodigal, That hath sold his fathers land.” The butchers stepped to jolly Robin, Acquainted with him for to be; “Come, brother,” one said, “we be all of one trade, Come, will you go dine with me?”