Robin set his back against a tree,
And his foot against a thorn,
And from underneath his shepherd’s coat
He pull’d out a bugle horn.
XII
He put the little end to his mouth,
And a loud blast did he blow,
Till threescore and ten of bold Robin’s men
Came running all on a row;
XIII
All making obeisance to bold Robin Hood;
—’Twas a comely sight for to see:
‘What matter, my master,’ said Little John,
‘That you blow so hastilye?’—
XIV
‘O here is the Bishop of Hereford,
And no pardon we shall have.’—
‘Cut off his head, master,’ said Little John,
‘And throw him into his grave.’—
XV
‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said the Bishop,
‘O pardon, I thee pray!
For if I had known it had been you,
I’d have gone some other way.’—