Percy Manuscript, p. 10; Hales and Furnivall, I, 26.
| 1 |
But how many merry monthes be in the yeere?
There are thirteen, I say;
The midsummer moone is the merryest of all,
Next to the merry month of May. |
| 2 |
In May, when mayds beene fast weepand,
Young men their hands done wringe,
* * * * * |
| 3 |
'I'le . pe . . .
Over may noe man for villanie:'
'I'le never eate nor drinke,' Robin Hood sa[id],
'Till I that cutted friar see.' |
| 4 |
He builded his men in a brake of fearne,
A litle from that nunery;
Sayes, If you heare my litle horne blow,
Then looke you come to me. |
| 5 |
When Robin came to Fontaines Abey,
Wheras that fryer lay,
He was ware of the fryer where he stood,
And to him thus can he say. |
| 6 |
A payre of blacke breeches the yeoman had on,
His coppe all shone of steele,
A fayre sword and a broad buckeler
Beseemed him very weell. |
| 7 |
'I am a wet weary man,' said Robin Hood,
'Good fellow, as thou may see;
Wilt beare [me] over this wild water,
Ffor sweete Saint Charity?' |
| 8 |
The fryer bethought him of a good deed;
He had done none of long before;
He hent up Robin Hood on his backe,
And over he did him beare. |
| 9 |
But when he came over that wild water,
A longe sword there he drew:
'Beare me backe againe, bold outlawe,
Or of this thou shalt have enoughe.' |
| 10 |
Then Robin Hood hent the fryar on his back,
And neither sayd good nor ill;
Till he came ore that wild water,
The yeoman he walked still. |
| 11 |
Then Robin Hood wett his fayre greene hoze,
A span aboue his knee;
S[ay]s, Beare me ore againe, thou cutted f[ryer]
* * * * * |
| 12 |
. . . .
. . . .
. . . good bowmen
[C]ame raking all on a rowe. |
| 13 |
'I beshrew thy head,' said the cutted friar,
'Thou thinkes I shall be shente;
I thought thou had but a man or two,
And thou hast [a] whole conuent. |
| 14 |
'I lett thee haue a blast on thy horne,
Now giue me leaue to whistle another;
I cold not bidd thee noe better play
And thou wert my owne borne brother.' |
| 15 |
'Now fute on, fute on, thou cutted fryar,
I pray God thou neere be still;
It is not the futing in a fryers fist
That can doe me any ill.' |
| 16 |
The fryar sett his neave to his mouth,
A loud blast he did blow;
Then halfe a hundred good bandoggs
Came raking all on a rowe. |
| 17 |
. . . .
. . . .
'Euery dogg to a man,' said the cutted fryar,
'And I my selfe to Robin Hood.' |
| 18 |
'Over God's forbott,' said Robin Hood,
'That euer that soe shold bee;
I had rather be mached with three of the tikes
Ere I wold be matched on thee. |
| 19 |
'But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,' he said,
'And freindshipp I'le haue with thee;
But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,' he said,
'And saue good yeomanry.' |
| 20 |
The fryar he sett his neave to his mouth,
A lowd blast he did blow;
The doggs the coucht downe eiery one,
They couched downe on a rowe. |
| 21 |
'What is thy will, thou yeoman?' he said,
'Haue done and tell it me;'
'If that thou will goe to merry greenwood,
* * * * * |
