"That ye shall mete with good Robyn,65
On lyve yf that he be;
Or ye come to Notyngham,
With eyen ye shall hym se."
Full hastly our kynge was dyght,
So were his knyghtes fyve,70
Everych of them in monkes wede,
And hasted them thyder [blyve].
Our kynge was grete above his cole,
A brode hat on his crowne,
Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,75
They rode up in-to the towne.
Styf botes our kynge had on,
Forsoth as I you say;
He rode syngynge to grene wode,
The covent was clothed in graye.80
His male hors and his grete somèrs
Folowed our kynge behynde,
Tyll they came to grene wode,
A myle under the lynde.
There they met with good Robyn,85
Stondynge on the waye,
And so dyde many a bolde archere,
For soth as I you say.
Robyn toke the kynges hors,
Hastely in that stede,90
And sayd, "Syr abbot, by your leve,
A whyle ye must abyde.
"We be yemen of this foreste,
Under the grene wode tre;
We lyve by our kynges dere,95
[Other shyft have not we.]
"And ye have chyrches and rentes both,
And gold full grete plentè;
Gyve us some of your spendynge,
For saynt Charytè."100
Than bespake our cumly kynge,
Anone than sayd he,
"I brought no more to grene wode,
But forty pounde with me.