Ballads, English -- Texts; Songs, English -- Texts
_He._ If you go thyder, ye must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for you gete,
Neither beer, ale, nor wine;
No shétes clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;
None other house but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine,
Lo, mine heart sweet, this evil diéte
Should make you pale and wan;
Wherefore I will to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
_She._ Among the wild deer, such an archère
As men say that ye be,
Ne may not fail of good vitayle,
Where is so great plentè:
And water clear of the rivère
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele I shall right wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, or we go, a bed or two
I can provide anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
_He._ Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
If ye will go with me:
As cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee;
With bow in hand, for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil,
Do it shortly as ye can:
Else will I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
_She._ I shall as now do more for you
Than 'longeth to womanhede;
To shote my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother, before all other
For you I have most dread!
But now, adieu! I must ensue,
Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye: Now let us flee;
The day cometh fast upon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
_He._ Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why,--
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, like as ye have said to me,
In likewise hardily
Ye would answere whosoever it were,
In way of company.
It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a womàn.
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
_She._ If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say by me;
For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,
Or I loved you, pardè:
And though that I of ancestry
A baron's daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall;
To die therefore anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
_He._ A baron's child to be beguil'd!
It were a cursèd deed;
To be felàwe with an outlàw!
Almighty God forbid!
Yet better were the poor squyère
Alone to forest yede,
Than ye shall say another day,
That, by my cursèd rede,
Ye were betrayed: Wherefore, good maid,
The best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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