Lo ! e’er ’twas drawn a span,
The beggar, with his noble tree,
Reach’d him so round a rout,
That his bow and his broad arròw
In flinders flew about.
Good Robin bound him to his brand,
But that prov’d likewise vain,
The beggar lighted on his hand
With his pike-staff again :
[I] wot he might not draw a sword