Thy death is in my honde.
And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,
Ryght under thy hattes bonde,
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.
Who is your mayster ? sayd the monke.
Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.
He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,
Of hym herd I never good.
Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,