"Now, heaven forefend he come to that end,"
Said Kit, "I love him well;
But let him learne to be wise in turne,95
And not with poore peddlers mell.
"In my packe, God wot, I a balsame have got,
That soone his hurts will heale;"
And into Robin Hoods gaping mouth
He presentlie powrde some deale.100
"Now fare ye well, tis best not to tell,
How ye three peddlers met;
Or if that ye doe, prithee tell alsoe,
How they made ye swinke and swett."
Poor Robin in sound they left on the ground,105
And hied them to Nottingham,
Whilst Scarlett and John, Robin tended on,
Till at length his senses came.
No sooner, in haste, did Robin Hood taste
The balsame he had tane,110
Then he gan to spewe, and up he threwe
The balsame all againe.
And Scarlett, and John, who were looking on
Their master as he did lie,
Had their faces besmeared, both eies and beard,115
Therewith most piteouslie.
Thus ended that fray; soe beware alwaye
How ye doe challenge foes;
Looke well aboute they are not to stoute,
Or you may have worst of the blowes.120
THE BOLD PEDLAR AND ROBIN HOOD.
From Dixon's "Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England," Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 71.—"An aged female in Bermondsey, Surrey, from whose oral recitation the editor took down the present version, informed him, that she had often heard her grandmother sing it, and that it was never in print; but he has of late met with several common stall copies."