WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
Robin Hood was a gentleman,
An outlaw bold was he;
He lost his Earldom and his land,
And took to the greenwood tree.
The king had just come home from war
With the Soldan over sea;
And Robin dwelt in merry Sherwood,
And lived by archerie.
Five bucks as fat as fat could be,
Were bleeding on the ground,
When up there came a hunter bright,
With a horn and leashéd hound.
"Who's this, who's this, i' th' merry greenwood?
Who's this with horn and hound?
We'll hang him, an' he pay not down
For his life a thousand pound.
"Come hither, hither, Friar John,
And count your rosarie,
And shrive this sinful gentleman,
Under the greenwood tree!"
"Stand back, stand back, thou wicked Friar,
Nor dare to stop my way;
I'll tear your cowl and cassock off,
And hurl your beads away!"
"Nay! hold your hands, my merry man!
I like his gallant mood;
Sir Hunter pray you take a staff,
And play with Robin Hood."
They played an hour with quarter staffs,
A good long hour or more,
And Robin Hood was beat at the game,
That never was beat before.
"Hold off, hold off," he said at length,
And wiped the blood away;
"Thou art a noble gentleman,
Come dine with me to-day."
"With the quarter staff, as a yeoman might,
For love I played with thee;
Now draw thy sword, as fits a knight,
And play awhile with me."
They fought an hour with rapiers keen,
A weary hour or more,
And Robin Hood began to fail,
That never failed before.
But still he fought as best he might,
In the summer's burning heat,
Till he sank at last with loss of blood,
And fell at the Stranger's feet.
He brought him water from the spring,
And took him by the hand;
"Rise up!" he said, "my good old Earl,
The best man in the land!
"Rise up, rise up, Earl Huntington,
No longer Robin Hood;
I will be king in London town,
And you in green Sherwood!"