We have a letter, said Adam Bell,
To the justice we must it bring;
Let us in our message to do,
That we may again to the king.
Here cometh none in, said the porter,
By him that died on a tree,
Till a false thief be hanged up,
Called William of Cloudesly.
Then spake the good yeoman, Clym of the Clough,
And swore by Mary free,
And if that we stand long without,
Like a thief hanged thou shalt be.
Lo! here we have the king's seal:
What, Lurden,[50] art thou wood?[51]
The porter thought it had been so,
And lightly did off his hood.
Welcome is my lord's seal, he said;
For that ye shall come in.
He opened the gate full shortly;
An evil opening for him.
Now are we in, said Adam Bell,
Whereof we are full fain;
But Christ he knowes, that harrowed hell,
How we shall come out again.
Had we the keys, said Clym of the Clough,
Right well then should we speed,
Then might we come out well enough
When we see time and need.
They called the porter to counsel,
And wrung his neck in two,
And cast him in a deep dungeon,
And took his keys him fro'.
Now am I porter, said Adam Bell,
See, brother, the keys are here,
The worst porter to merry Carlisle
That they had this hundred year.
And now will we our bows bend,
Into the town will we go,
For to deliver our dear brother,
That lyeth in care and woe.