That portion of ‘Robin Hood’s Death’ in which Robin Hood gets angry with Scarlet, and shoots with Little John on his way to be let blood, may have been transferred, at least in part, from Robin Hood and the Monk. It is hardly worth the while to ask whether the monk in this ballad is the same who is pillaged in The Gest. So rational a suggestion as that more than one monk must have fallen into Robin’s hands, in the course of his long and lucrative career, may not be conclusive, but we may rest certain that there were many Robin Hood ballads besides the few old ones which have come down to us; and if so, there would be many variations upon so agreeable a topic as the depleting of overstocked friars. Translated, after Jamieson, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 148, No 24; by Anastasius Grün, p. 89. 1 In som_er_, when þe shawes be sheyn_e_, And leves be large and long, Hit is full mery i_n_ feyre foreste To here þe foulys song: 2 To se þe dere draw to þe dale, And leve þe hilles hee, And shadow he_m_ i_n_ þe levës grene, Vnd_e_r the grene-wode tre. 3 Hit befel on Whitsontide, Erly in a May mornyng, The son vp feyre can shyne, And the briddis mery can syng. 4 ‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John, ‘Be hym þ_a_t dyed on tre; A more mery man þen I am one Lyves not in Cristiantë. 5 ‘Pluk vp þi hert, my dere mayst_er_,’ Litull John can sey, ‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme In a mornyng of May.’ 6 ‘Ȝe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn, ‘And does my hert mych woo; Þ_a_t I may not no solem day To mas nor matyns goo. 7 ‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he, ‘Syn I my sauyo_u_r see; To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn, ‘W_i_t_h_ þe myght of mylde Marye.’ 8 Than spake Moche, þe myln_er_ sun, Eu_er_ more wel hym betyde! ‘Take twelue of þi wyght ȝemen, Well weppynd, be þi side. Such on wolde þi selfe slon, Þ_a_t twelue dar not abyde.’ 9 ‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn, ‘Be my feith I wil non haue, But Litull John shall beyre my bow, Til þ_a_t me list to drawe.’ 10 ‘Þ_o_u shall beyre þin own,’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Maist_er_, and I wyl beyre myne, And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Vnd_e_r þe grene-wode lyne.’ 11 ‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode, ‘In feith, Litull John, w_i_t_h_ the, But eu_er_ for on as þ_o_u shet_is_,’ seid_e_ Robyn, ‘In feith I holde þe thre.’ 12 Thus shet þei forth, þese ȝemen too, Bothe at buske and brome, Til Litull John wan of his maist_er_ Fiue shillings to hose and shone. 13 A ferly strife fel þem betwene, As they went bi the wey; Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings, And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay. 14 W_i_t_h_ þ_a_t Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon, And smote hym w_i_t_h_ his hande; Litul Jon waxed wroth þ_erw_it_h_, And pulled out his bright bronde.