When shaws[926] beene sheene[927], and shradds[928] full fayre,
And leves both large and longe,
Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrèst
To heare the small birds’ songe.
II
The woodweele[929] sang, and wold not cease,
[Sitting upon the spraye,
Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,
In the grenewood where he lay.
III
‘Now by my faye,’ sayd jollye Robìn,
‘A sweaven[930] I had this night;
I dreamt me of two wight[931] yemen,
That fast with me can fight.]
IV
‘Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bow mee fro;
If I be Robin alive in this lande,
I’ll be wroken[932] on them towe.’
V
‘Sweavens are swift, Master,’ quoth John,
‘As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For if itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still.’