"If she be dead, then take my horse, My saddle and bridle also; For I will into some farr countrye, Where noe man shall me knowe." "O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe, She standeth by thy side; She is here alive, she is not dead, And readye to be thy bride." "O farewell griefe, and welcome joye, Ten thousand times therefore; For nowe I have founde mine owne true love, Whom I thought I should never see more." ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS. There are twelve months in all the year, As I hear many say, But the merriest month in all the year Is the merry month of May. Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, _With a link a down, and a day_, And there he met a silly old woman, Was weeping on the way. "What news? what news? thou silly old woman, What news hast thou for me?" Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town To-day condemned to die." "O, have they parishes burnt?" he said, "Or have they ministers slain? Or have they robbed any virgin? Or other men's wives have ta'en?" "They have no parishes burnt, good sir, Nor yet have ministers slain, Nor have they robbed any virgin, Nor other men's wives have ta'en." "O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood, "I pray thee tell to me." "It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer, Bearing their long bows with thee." "Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said, "How thou madest me sup and dine? By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood, "You could not tell it in better time." Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, _With a link a down, and a day_, And there he met with a silly old palmer, Was walking along the highway. "What news? what news? thou silly old man, What news, I do thee pray?" Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town Are condemn'd to die this day." "Come change thy apparel with me, old man, Come change thy apparel for mine; Here is ten shillings in good silvèr, Go drink it in beer or wine." "O, thine apparel is good," he said, "And mine is ragged and torn; Wherever you go, wherever you ride, Laugh not an old man to scorn." "Come change thy apparel with me, old churl, Come change thy apparel with mine; Here is a piece of good broad gold, Go feast thy brethren with wine." Then he put on the old man's hat, It stood full high on the crown: "The first bold bargain that I come at, It shall make thee come down." Then he put on the old man's cloak, Was patch'd black, blue, and red; He thought it no shame, all the day long, To wear the bags of bread.