“And wha has ta’en down that bush of woodbine
That hung between her bow’r and mine?
And wha has kill’d the master kid
That ran beneath that ladye’s bed?
And wha has loosed her left foot shee,
And let that ladye lighter be?”
Syne, Willie’s loosed the nine witch-knots
That were amang that ladye’s locks;
And Willie’s ta’en out the kames of care
That were into that ladye’s hair;
And he’s ta’en down the bush of woodbine,
Hung atween her bow’r and the witch carline.
And he has killed the master kid
That ran beneath that ladye’s bed;
And he has loosed her left foot shee,
And latten that ladye lighter be;
And now he has gotten a bonnie son,
And meikle grace be him upon.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and longe,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.
To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Vndur the grene-wode tre.
Hit befell on Whitsontide,
Erly in a may mornyng,
The son vp fayre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
“This is a mery mornyng,” seid Litulle Johne,
“Be hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man than I am one
Lyves not in Cristianté.”
“Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster,”
Litulle Johne can sey,
“And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme
In a mornynge of may.”
“Ze on thynge greves me,” seid Robyne,
“And does my hert mych woo,
That I may not so solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.