And their bugle-horn cheerily sounds.
“‘Thou shalt be an archer, as well as the best,
And range in the green-wood with us;
Where we’ll not want gold nor silver, behold,
While bishops have aught in their purse.
“‘We live here like ’squires, or lords of renown,
Without e’er a foot of free land;
We feast on good cheer, with wine, ale, and beer,
And ev’ry thing at our command.
“‘Then welcome, my lad, to the merry green-wood,