THE EIGHTH FYTTE.
"Hast thou any green cloth," said our king,
"That thou wilt sell now to me?"
"Yea, fore God," said Robin.
"Thirty yards and three."
"Robin," said our king,
"Now pray I thee,
To sell me some of that cloth,
To me and my meyn-e."
"Yes, fore God," then said Rob-in,
"Or else I were a fool;
Another day ye will me clothe,
I trow, against the Yule."
The king cast off his cot-e then,
A green garment he did on,
And every knight had so, i-wis,
They cloth-ed them full soon.
When they were clothed in Lincoln green,
They cast away their gray.
Now we shall to Nottingham,
All thus our king gan say.
Their bows they bent and forth they went,
Shooting all in-fere,
Toward the town of Nottingham,
Outlaws as they were.
Our king and Robin rode together,
For sooth as I you say,
And they shot pluck-buffet,
As they went by the way;
And many a buffet our king wan,
Of Robin Hood that day:
And nothing spar-ed good Rob-in
Our king in his pay.
"So God me help-e," said our king,
"Thy name is nought to lere,
I should not get a shot of thee,
Though I shot all this year."
All the people of Nottingham
They stood and beheld,
They saw nothing but mantles of green,
They covered all the feld;
Then every man to other gan say,
"I dread our king be slone;
Come Robin Hood to the town, i-wis,
On live he leaveth not one."
Full hastily they began to flee,
Both yeomen and knaves,
And old wives that might evil go,
They hopp-ed on their staves.
The king be lough full fast,
And commanded them again;
When they see our comely king,
I-wis they were full fain.
They ate and drank, and made them glad,
And sang with not-es hie.
Then bespake our comely king
To Sir Richard at the Lee:
He gave him there his land again,
A good man he bade him be.
Robin thanked our comely king,
And set him on his knee.
Had Robin dwelled in the king's court
But twelv-e months and three,
That he had spent an hundred pound,
And all his menn-es fee,
In every place where Robin came,
Ever more he laid down,
Both for knights and squires,
To get him great renown.
By then the year was all agone,
He had no man but twain,
Little John and good Scathlocke,
With him all for to gane.
Robin saw yong-e men to shoot,
Full fair upon a day,
"Alas!" then said good Rob-in,
"My wealth is went away.
Sometime I was an archer good,
A stiff and eke a strong,
I was committed the best arch-er
That was in merry Englond.
Alas!" then said good Rob-in,
"Alas and well away!
If I dwell longer with the king,
Sorrow will me slay!"
Forth then went Robin Hood,
Till he came to our king:
"My lord the king of Englond,
Grant me mine ask-ing.
I made a chapel in Barnysdale,
That seemly is to see,
It is of Mary Magdalene,
And thereto would I be;
I might never in this seven-night,
No time to sleep ne wink,
Neither all these seven days,
Neither eat ne drink.
Me longeth sore to Barnysdale,
I may not be therefro,
Barefoot and woolward I have hight
Thither for to go."
"If it be so," then said our king,
"It may no better be;
Seven-night I give thee leave,
No longer, to dwell fro me."
"Gram-ercy, lord," then said Rob-in,
And set him on his knee;
He took his leave full courteously,
To green wood then went he.
When he came to green-e wood,
In a merr-y morning,
There he heard the not-es small
Of bird-es merry sing-ing.
"It is ferre gone," said Rob-in,
"That I was last here,
Me list a little for to shoot
At the dunne deer."
Robin slew a full great hart,
His horn then gan he blow,
That all the outlaws of that for-est,
That horn could they know,
And gathered them together,
In a little throw,
Seven score of wight young men,
Came ready on a row;
And fair did off their hoods,
And set them on their knee:
"Welcome," they said, "our mast-er,
Under this green wood tree!"
Robin dwelled in green wood,
Twenty year and two,
For all dread of Edward our king,
Again would he not go.
Yet he was beguiled, i-wis,
Through a wicked wom-an,
The Prioress of Kirklees,
That nigh was of his kin,
For the love of a knight,
Sir Roger of Doncaster,
That was her own special,
Full evil mote they thee,
They took together their couns-el,
Robin Hood for to sle,
And how they might best do that deed,
His banis for to be.
Then bespak-e good Rob-in,
In place whereas he stood,
"To-morrow I must to Kirklees,
Craftily to be letten blood."
Sir Roger of Doncaster,
By the Prioress he lay,
And there they betrayed good Robin Hood,
Through their fals-e play.
Christ have mercy on his soul,
That di-ed on the rood!
For he was a good outlaw,
And did poor men much good.
KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH.
In summer time, when leaves grow green,
And blossoms bedeck the tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
Some pastime for to see.
With hawk and hound he made him boun,
With horn, and eke with bow;
To Drayton Basset he took his way,
With all his lords arow.
And he had ridden o'er dale and down
By eight of clock in the day,
When he was ware of a bold tann-er,
Come riding along the way.
A fair russet coat the tanner had on,
Fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide,
And a mare of four shill-ing.
"Now stand you still, my good lords all
Under the green wood spray;
And I will wend to yonder fell-ow,
To weet what he will say."—
"God speed, God speed thee," said our king.—
"Thou art welcome, sir," said he.—
"The readiest way to Drayton Basset
I pray thee to show to me."—
"To Drayton Basset wouldst thou go,
Fro the place where thou dost stand?
The next pair of gallows thou comest unto
Turn in upon thy right hand."—
"That is an unready way," said our king,
"Thou doest but jest, I see;
Now show me out the nearest way,
And I pray thee wend with me."—
"Away with a vengeance!" quoth the tanner:
"I hold thee out of thy wit:
All day have I ridden on Brock my mare,
And I am fasting yet."—
"Go with me down to Drayton Basset,
No dainties we will spare;
All day shalt thou eat and drink of the best,
And I will pay thy fare."—
"Gram-ercy for nothing," the tanner replied,
"Thou payest no fare of mine:
I trow I've more nobles in my purse,
Than thou hast pence in thine."—
"God give thee joy of them," said the king,
"And send them well to prief."—
The tanner would fain have been away,
For he weened he had been a thief.
"What art thou," he said, "thou fine fell-ow?
Of thee I am in great fear,
For the clothes thou wearest upon thy back
Might beseem a lord to wear."—
"I never stole them," quoth our king,
"I tell you, sir, by the rood."—
"Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth,
And standest in midst of thy good."—
"What tidings hear you," said the king.
"As you ride far and near?"—
"I hear no tidings, sir, by the mass,
But that cow-hides are dear."—
"Cow-hides! cow-hides! what things are those?
I marvel what they be!"—
"What, art thou a fool?" the tanner replied;
"I carry one under me."—
"What craftsman art thou?" said the king,
"I pray thee tell me trow."—
"I am a barker, sir, by my trade.
Now tell me what art thou?"—
"I am a poor courtier, sir," quoth he,
"That am forth of service worn;
And fain I would thy 'prentice be,
Thy cunning for to learn."—
"Marry, heaven forfend," the tanner replied,
"That thou my 'prentice were!
Thou'dst spend more good than I should win,
By forty shilling a year."—
"Yet one thing would I," said our king,
"If thou wilt not seem strange:
Though my horse be better than thy mare,
Yet with thee I fain would change."—
"Why, if with me thou fain wilt change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou proud fell-ow
I will have some boot of thee."—
"That were against reason," said the king,
"I swear, so mote I thee:
My horse is better than thy mare,
And that thou well may'st see."—
"Yea, sir, but Brock is gentle and mild,
And softly she will fare;
Thy horse is unruly and wild, i-wis;
Aye skipping here and there."—
"What boot wilt thou have?" our king replied;
"Now tell me in this stound."—
"No pence, nor halfpence, by my fay,
But a noble in gold so round."—
"Here's twenty groats of white mon-ey,
Sith thou wilt have it of me."—
"I would have sworn now," quoth the tanner,
"Thou hadst not had one penni-e.
"But since we two have made a change,
A change we must abide;
Although thou hast gotten Brock my mare,
Thou gettest not my cow-hide."—
"I will not have it," said the king,
"I swear, so mote I thee;
Thy foul cow-hide I would not bear,
If thou wouldst give it to me."
The tanner he took his good cow-hide
That of the cow was hilt;
And threw it upon the king's sad-elle,
That was so fairly gilt.
"Now help me up, thou fine fell-ow,
'Tis time that I were gone:
When I come home to Gyllian my wife,
She'll say I am a gentilmon."
When the tanner he was in the king's sad-elle,
And his foot in the stirrup was;
He marvelled greatly in his mind,
Whether it were gold or brass.
But when his steed saw the cow's tail wag,
And eke the black cow-horn;
He stamped, and stared, and away he ran,
As the devil had him borne.
The tanner he pulled, the tanner he sweat,
And held by the pummel fast:
At length the tanner came tumbling down;
His neck he had well-nigh brast.
"Take thy horse again with a vengeance!" he said,
"With me he shall not bide!"—
"My horse would have borne thee well enough,
But he knew not of thy cow-hide.
"Yet if again thou fain wouldst change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou jolly tann-er,
I will have some boot of thee."—
"What boot wilt thou have?" the tanner replied,
"Now tell me in this stound."—
"No pence nor halfpence, sir, by my fay,
But I will have twenty pound."—
"Here's twenty groats out of my purse;
And twenty I have of thine:
And I have one more, which we will spend
Together at the wine."
The king set a bugle horn to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill:
And soon came lords, and soon came knights,
Fast riding over the hill.
"Now, out alas!" the tanner he cried,
"That ever I saw this day!
Thou art a strong thief, yon come thy fell-ows
Will bear my cow-hide away!"—
"They are no thieves," the king replied,
"I swear, so mote I thee:
But they are the lords of the north countr-y,
Here come to hunt with me."
And soon before our king they came,
And knelt down on the ground:
Then might the tanner have been away,
He had liever than twenty pound.
"A collar, a collar, here!" said the king,
"A collar!" he loud gan cry;
Then would he liever than twenty pound,
He had not been so nigh.
"A collar, a collar," the tanner he said,
"I trow it will breed sorrow;
After a collar cometh a halter,
I trow I'll be hanged to-morrow."—
"Be not afraid, tanner," said our king;
"I tell thee, so mote I thee,
Lo here I make thee the best esquire
That is in the north countrie.
"For Plumpton Park I will give thee,
With tenements fair beside:
'Tis worth three hundred marks by the year,
To maintain thy good cow-hide."—
"Gram-ercy, my liege," the tanner replied
"For the favour thou hast me shown;
If ever thou comest to merry Tam-worth,
Neat's leather shall clout thy shoon."
SIR PATRICK SPENS.
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O whare will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship of mine?"
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the king's right knee:
"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sail-or
That ever sailed the sea."
Our king has written a braid letter,
And sealed it with his hand;
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the sand.
"To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway o'er the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
The first word that Sir Patrick read,
A loud laugh laughed he:
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his ee.
"O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o' me;
To send us out this time o' the year,
To sail upon the sea?
"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem,
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis we must fetch her hame."
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi' a' the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.
They hadna been a week, a week,
In Noroway, but twae,
When that the lords o' Noroway
Began aloud to say,—
"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
And a' our queenis fee."—
"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
Fu' loud I hear ye lie;
"For I brought as much white monie
As gane my men and me,
And I brought a half-fou of gude red goud,
Out o'er the sea wi' me.
"Make ready, make ready, my merry men a',
Our gude ship sails the morn!"—
"Now, ever alack, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm!
"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm."
They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.
The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
It was sic a deadly storm;
And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,
Till a' her sides were torn.
"O where will I get a gude sail-or
To take my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall topmast
To see if I can spy land?"—
"O here am I, a sailor gude,
To take the helm in hand,
Till you go up to the tall topmast,
But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,
When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship,
And the salt sea it came in.
"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
Another o' the twine,
And wap them into our ship's side,
And let nae the sea come in."
They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
Another o' the twine,
And they wapped them round that gude ship's side,
But still the sea cam in.
O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
To wet their cork-heeled shoon!
But lang or a' the play was played
They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather bed
That flattered on the faem;
And mony was the gude lord's son
That never mair cam hame.
The ladies wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake of their true loves;
For them they'll see nae mair.
O lang, lang, may the ladies sit,
Wi' their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
Wi' their gold combs in their hair,
Awaiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they'll see nae mair.
O forty miles off Aberdeen
'Tis fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.