"O did he come alone from Jem,
And not from our father the Pope,
I'd bring him in to Copmanshurst,
With the noose of a hempen rope!
"But since he has come from our father the Pope,
And sailed across the sea,
And since he has power to bind and loose,
His life is safe for me;
But a heavy penance he shall do
Beneath the greenwood tree!"
"O tarry yet!" quoth Charlie Wood.
"O tarry, master mine!
It's ill to shear a yearling hog,
Or twist the wool of swine!
"It's ill to make a bonny silk purse
From the ear of a bristly boar;
It's ill to provoke a shaveling's curse,
When the way lies him before.
"I've walked the forest for twenty years,
In wet weather and dry,
And never stopped a good fellowe,
"Who had no coin to buy.
"What boots it to search a beggarman's bags,
When no silver groat he has?
So, master mine, I rede you well,
E'en let the Friar pass!"
"Now cease thy prate," quoth Little John,
"Thou japest but in vain;
An he have not a groat within his pouch,
We may find a silver chain.
"But were he as bare as a new-flayed buck,
As truly he may be,
He shall not tread the Sherwood shaws
Without the leave of me!"
Little John has taken his arrows and bow,
His sword and buckler strong,
And lifted up his quarter-staff,
Was full three cloth yards long.
And he has left his merry men
At the trysting-tree behind,
And gone into the gay greenwood,
This burly frere to find.