27

Thryes thorowout þem he ran þen,

For soþe as I yow sey,

And woundyt mony a moder son,

And twelue he slew þat day.

28

His sworde vpon þe schireff hed

Sertanly he brake in too;

‘Þe smyth þat þe made,’ seid Robyn,

‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!