They kest away theyr graye.
Now we shall to Notyngham,
All thus our kynge gan say.
Theyr bowes bente and forth they went,
Shotynge all in-fere,
Towarde the towne of Notyngham,
Outlawes as they were.
Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,
For soth as I you say,
And they shote plucke-buffet,