"This is thy true love," Robin he said, Young Allen, as I hear say; And you shall be married this same time, Before we depart away." "That shall not be," the bishop he cried, "For thy word shall not stand; They shall be three times asked in the church, As the law is of our land." Robin Hood pulled off the bishop's coat, And put it upon Little John; "By the faith of my body," then Robin said, "This cloth doth make thee a man." When Little John went into the quire, The people began to laugh; He asked them seven times into church, Lest three times should not be enough. "Who gives me this maid?" said Little John, Quoth Robin Hood, "That do I; And he that takes her from Allen-a-Dale, Full dearly he shall her buy." And then having ended this merry wedding, The bride looked like a queen; And so they returned to the merry greenwood, Amongst the leaves so green. Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walkyng in the fayre forrest To heare the small birdes songe. The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood, In the greenwood where he lay. "Now, by my faye," sayd jollye Robin, "A sweaven I had this night; I dreamt me of tow wighty yemen, That fast with me can fight. "Methought they did mee beate and binde, And tooke my bow mee froe; Iff I be Robin alive in this lande, Ile be wroken on them towe." "Sweavens are swift, master," quoth John, "As the wind that blowes ore the hill; For if itt be never so loude this night, To-morrow it may be still." "Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, And John shall goe with mee, For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen, In greenwood where the bee." Then they cast on their gownes of grene, And tooke theyr bowes each one; And they away to the greene forrest A shooting forth are gone; Untill they came to the merry greenwood, Where they had gladdest to bee; There were they ware of a wight yeoman, His body leaned to a tree. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, Of manye a man the bane; And he was clad in his capull hyde, Topp and tayll and mayne. "Stand you still, master," quoth Little John, "Under this tree so grene, And I will go to yond wight yeoman To know what he doth meane." "Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store, And that I farley finde: How offt send I my men beffore, And tarry my selfe behinde! "It is no cunning a knave to ken, And a man but heare him speake; And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, John, I thy head wold breake."