Robyn bent a good bowe,
An arrowe he drewe at his wyll,
He hyt so the proud sheryf,
Upon the ground he lay full styll.
And or he myght up aryse,125
On his fete to stonde,
He smote of the sheryves hede,
With his bryght bronde.
"Lye thou there, thou proude sheryf,
Evyll mote thou thryve;130
There myght no man to the trust,
The whyles thou were alyve."
His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes,
That were so sharpe and kene,
And layde on the sheryves men,135
And dryved them downe bydene.
Robyn stert to that knyght,
And cut a two his [bonde],
And toke hym in his hand a bowe,
And bade hym by hym stonde.140
"Leve thy hors the behynde,
And lerne for to renne;
Thou shalt with me to grene wode,
Through myre, mosse, and fenne.
"Thou shalt with me to grene wode,145
Without ony leasynge,
Tyll that I have gete us grace
Of Edwarde, our comly kynge."
[14], thou, W.
[38], the bydde, OCC.
[64], honde and fote, W. foote and hande, C.