Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
His men were faine to be his guide, 105
For he rode backward home:
The abbot, being thus villified,
Did sorely chafe and fume.
Thus Robbin Hood did vindicate
His former wrongs receiv'd; 110
For 'twas this covetous prelàte
That him of land bereav'd.
The abbot he rode to the king,
With all the haste he could,
And to his grace he every thing 115
Exactly did unfold:
And sayd if that no course were ta'en,
By force or stratagem,
To take this rebel and his traine,
No man should passe for them. 120
The king protested by and by
Unto the abbot then,
That Robbin Hood with speed should dye,
With all his merry men.
But e're the king did any send, 125
He did another feate,
Which did his grace much more offend,
The fact indeed was great.
For in a short time after that
The kings receivers went 130
Towards London with the coyne they got,
For 's highness northerne rent.
Bold Robbin Hood and Little John,
With the rest of their traine,
Not dreading law, set them upon, 135
And did their gold obtaine.
The king much moved at the same,
And the abbots talke also,
In this his anger did proclaime,
And sent word to and fro, 140
That whosoe'er alive or dead
Could bring bold Robbin Hood,
Should have one thousand markes well paid
In gold and silver good.
This promise of the king did make 145
Full many yeomen bold
Attempt stout Robbin Hood to take,
With all the force they could.
But still when any came to him
Within the gay greene wood, 150
He entertainement gave to them
With venison fat and good;
And shew'd to them such martiale sport
With his long bow and arrow,
That they of him did give report, 155
How that it was great sorow,
That such a worthy man as he
Should thus be put to shift,
Being late a lord of high degree,
Of living quite bereft. 160
The king to take him, more and more
Sent men of mickle might;
But he and his still beate them sore,
And conquered them in fight:
Or else with love and courtesie, 165
To him he won their hearts.
Thus still he lived by robbery
Throughout the northerne parts;
And all the country stood in dread
Of Robbin Hood and 's men: 170
For stouter lads ne're liv'd by bread
In those days, nor since then.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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