Two stalworth blades, sworn friends, were there,
Jem Oakes, and Asho'er Will;
They wanted only a good cross-bow,
The Queen's fat deer to kill.
Then came Nick Milnes, that smart young man,
Of fifteen winters old;
With Charley Oakes, a proper young man,
Of courage stout and bold.
Next Tom of Riddings, the rural swain,
(Their Allen-a-dale was he,)
Came tripping o'er the heather bell,
As blithe as blithe could be.
Good Lord it was a pleasant sight,
To see them all on a row;
With every man his good cigar,
And his little bag hanging low.
Bill Graham, of Skiers, he then stepped forth,
All buskined up to the knee;
And he swore by all the fair maids there,
Their champion he would be.
When this the Captain he did hear,
To Bill up stepped he;
And thus he said before the face
Of that goodly companie:—
"The devil a drop, thou proud fellow!
Of my whiskey shalt thou see,
Until thy courage here be tried—
Thou shalt not go scot-free."
"By my troth," cried Bill "thourt a gallant knight,
And worthy of me for thy squire,
And I'll show thee how for a lady I'll fight,
If thoul't meet me in good Yorkshire."
When sweet maid-Marian this did hear,
With a hey down down and a derry;
Her rosy cheek did bleach with fear,
But sweet Meg it made merry.
"A boon, a boon," cried little John,
"I'm sick, and fain would see,
What thou hast got in thy leather bottel,
I pray thee show to me."