As often wordes they breeden bale, So they parted Robin and John; And John is gone to Barnesdale; The gates he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale, Great heavinesse there hee hadd, For he found tow of his owne fell wes Were slaine both in a slade. And Scarlette he was flying a-foote Faste over stocke and stone, For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone. "One shoote now I will shoote," quoth John, "With Christ his might and mayne; Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne." Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, And fetteled him to shoote: The bow was made of tender boughe, And fell down to his foote. "Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, That ere thou grew on a tree; For now this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee." His shoote it was but loosely shott, Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine, For itt mett one of the sherriffes men, Good William a Trent was slaine. It had bene better of William a Trent To have bene abed with sorrowe, Than to be that day in the green-wood slade To meet with Little Johns arrowe. But as it is said, when men be mett Fyve can doe more than three, The sheriffe hath taken Little John, And bound him fast to a tree. "Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, And hanged hye on a hill." "But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose," quoth John, "If itt be Christ his will." Lett us leave talking of Little John, And thinke of Robin Hood, How he is gone to the wight yeoman, Where under the leaves he stood. "Good morrowe, good fellowe," sayd Robin so fayre, "Good morrowe, good fellow," quoth he. "Methinks by this bowe thou beares in thy hande, A good archere thou sholdst bee." "I am wilfulle of my waye," quo' the yeoman, "And of my morning tyde:" "Ile lead thee through the wood," sayd Robin, "Good fellow, Ile be thy guide." "I seeke an outlawe," the straunger sayd, "Men call him Robin Hood; Rather Ild meet with that proud outlawe Than fortye pound soe good." "Now come with me, thou wight yeman, And Robin thou soone shalt see; But first let us some pastime find Under the greenwood tree. "First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even; We may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here att some unsett steven." They cutt them down two summer shroggs, That grew both under a breere, And set them threescore rood in twaine, To shoote the prickes y-fere. "Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood, "Leade on, I doe bidd thee." "Nay, by my faith, good fellowe," hee sayd, "My leader thou shalt bee."