His kyrtell and his cote-a-pye,
That was furred well fyne,
And take him a grene mantèll,
To lappe his body therin.
Robyn commaunded his wyght young men,205
Under the grene wood tre,
They shall lay in that same sorte,
That the sheryf myght them se.
All nyght laye that proud sheryf
In his breche and in his sherte;210
No wonder—it was in grene wode,—
Tho his sydes do smerte.
"Make glad chere," sayd Robyn Hode,
"Sheryfe, for charytè,
For this is our order i-wys,215
Under the grene wood tre."
"This is harder order," sayd the sheryfe,
"Than ony anker or frere;
For al the golde in mery Englonde,
I wolde not longe dwell here."220
"All these twelve monethes," sayd Robyn,
"Thou shalte dwell with me;
I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,
An outlawe for to be."
"Or I here another nyght lye," sayd the sheryfe,225
"Robyn, nowe I pray the,
Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,
And I forgyve it the.
"Lete me go," then sayd the sheryf,
"For saynt Charytè,230
And I wyll be the best frende
That ever yet had [ye]."
"Thou shalte swere me an othe," sayd Robyn,
"On my bryght bronde,
Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,235
By water ne by londe;
"And if thou fynde ony of my men,
By nyght or by day,
Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere
To helpe them that thou may."240