"As the wind blowes over the hill;
For iff itt be never so loude this night,
To morrow it may be still."
"Buske[19] yee, bowne[20] yee, my merry men all,
And John shall goe with mee,
For Ile goe seeke yon wighty[21] yeoman,
In greenwood where they bee."
Then they cast on theyr gownes of grene,
And tooke theyr bowes each one;