For the love of my kynge,
Under my trystell tre.”
Forth he lad our comly kynge,
Full fayre by the honde,
Many a dere there was slayne,
And full fast dyghtande.
Robyn toke a full grete horne,
And loude he can blowe,
Seven score of wyght yonge men,
Came redy on a rowe,