Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a bird and followed this fellow, who was going into a field a little from that place to catch a horse that was at grass. The horse, being wild, ran over dyke and hedge, and the fellow after, but to little purpose, for the horse was too swift for him. Robin was glad of this occasion, for now or never was the time to have his revenge. Presently Robin shaped himself exactly like the horse that the clown followed, and so stood right before him. Then the clown took hold of the horse's mane and got on his back, but he had not ridden far when, with a stumble, Robin hurled his rider over his head, so that he almost broke his neck. But then again he stood still and let the clown mount him once more. By the way which the clown now would ride was a great pond of water of a good depth, which covered the road. No sooner did he ride into the very middle of the pond than Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a fish, and so left him with nothing but the pack-saddle on which he was riding betwixt his legs. Meanwhile the fish swiftly swam to the bank. And then Robin, changed to a naughty boy again, ran away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!" leaving the poor clown half drowned and covered with mud. As Robin took his way along a green hedge-side he fell to singing:— "And can the doctor make sick men well? And can the gipsy a fortune tell Without lily, germander, and cockle-shell? With sweet-brier, And bon-fire And strawberry wine, And columbine." And when he had sung this over, he fell to wondering what he should next turn himself into. Then, as he saw the smoke rise from the chimneys of the next town, he thought to himself it would be to him great sport to walk the streets with a broom on his shoulder, and cry: "Chimney sweep." But when presently Robin did this, and one did call him, then did Robin run away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!" Next he set about to counterfeit a lame beggar, begging very pitifully; but when a stout chandler came out of his shop to give Robin an alms, again he skipped off nimbly, laughing as his naughty manner was. That same night, he did knock at many men's doors, and when the servants came out he blew out their candle and straightway vanished in the dark street, with his "Ho, ho, hoh!" All these mirthful tricks did Robin play, that day and night, and in these humours of his he had many pretty songs, one of which I will sing as perfectly as I can. He sang it in his chimney-sweeper's humour, to the tune of "I have been a fiddler these fifteen years." "Black I am from head to foot, And all doth come by chimney soot. Then, maidens, come and cherish him That makes your chimneys neat and trim."