"I've walked the forest for twenty years, In wet weather and dry, And never stopped a good fellowe, Who had no coin to buy. "What boots it to search a beggarman's bags, When no silver groat he has? So, master mine, I rede you well, E'en let the friar pass!" "Now cease thy prate," quoth Little John, "Thou japest but in vain; An he have not a groat within his pouch, We may find a silver chain. "But were he as bare as a new-flayed buck, As truly he may be, He shall not tread the Sherwood shaws Without the leave of me!" Little John has taken his arrows and bow, His sword and buckler strong, And lifted up his quarter-staff, Was full three cloth yards long. And he has left his merry men At the trysting-tree behind, And gone into the gay greenwood, This burly frere to find. O'er holt and hill, through brake and brere, He took his way alone-- Now, Lordlings, list and you shall hear This geste of Little John. FYTTE THE SECOND. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry in gay greenwood, When the little birds are singing, When the buck is belling in the fern, And the hare from the thicket springing! 'Tis merry to hear the waters clear, As they splash in the pebbly fall; And the ouzel whistling to his mate, As he lights on the stones so small. But small pleasaunce took Little John In all he heard and saw; Till he reached the cave of a hermit old Who wonned within the shaw. "_Ora pro nobis_!" quoth Little John-- His Latin was somewhat rude-- "Now, holy father, hast thou seen A frere within the wood? "By his scarlet hose, and his ruddy nose, I guess you may know him well; And he wears on his head a hat so red, And a monstrous scallop-shell." "I have served Saint Pancras," the hermit said, "In this cell for thirty year, Yet never saw I, in the forest bounds, The face of such a frere! "An' if ye find him, master mine, E'en take an old man's advice, An' raddle him well, till he roar again, Lest ye fail to meet him twice!" "Trust me for that!" quoth Little John-- "Trust me for that!" quoth he, with a laugh; "There never was man of woman born, That asked twice for the taste of my quarter-staff!" Then Little John, he strutted on, Till he came to an open bound, And he was aware of a Red Friar, Was sitting upon the ground. His shoulders they were broad and strong, And large was he of limb; Few yeomen in the north countrie Would care to mell with him. He heard the rustling of the boughs, As Little John drew near; But never a single word he spoke, Of welcome or of cheer: Less stir he made than a pedlar would For a small gnat in his ear! I like not his looks! thought Little John, Nor his staff of the oaken tree. Now may our Lady be my help, Else beaten I well may be! "What dost thou here, thou strong Friar, In Sherwood's merry round, Without the leave of Little John, To range with hawk and hound?"