In schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschems on every bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.
Herkens, god yemen,5
Comley, [corteysse], and god,
On of the best that yever bar bou,
Hes name was Roben Hode.
Roben Hood was the yemans name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;10
For the loffe of owr ladey,
All wemen werschep [he].
Bot as the god yemen stod on a day,
Among hes mery manèy,
He was war of a prowd potter,15
Cam dryfyng owyr the [ley].
"Yonder comet a prod potter," [seyde] Roben,
"That long hayt hantyd this wey;
He was never so corteys a man
On peney of pawage to pay."20
"Y met hem bot at Wentbreg," [seyde] Lytyll John,
"And therfor yeffell mot he the,
Seche thre strokes he me gafe,
Yet they cleffe by my seydys.
"Y ley forty shillings," seyde Lytyll John,25
"To pay het thes same day,
Ther ys nat a man among hus all
A wed schall make hem [ley]."
"Her ys forty shillings," seyde Roben,
"Mor, and thow dar say,30
That y schall make that prowde potter,
A wed to me schall he ley."
Ther thes money they leyde,
They toke het a yeman to kepe;
Roben befor the potter he breyde,35
[And] bad hem stond stell.
Handys apon hes horse he leyde,
And bad the potter stonde foll stell;
The potter schorteley to hem seyde,
"Felow, what ys they well?"40