* * * * *
"Now, Little John was an outlaw proud,
A prouder ye never saw;
Through Nottingham and Leicestershires
He thought his word was law,
And he strutted through the greenwood wide
Like a pestilent jackdaw.
* * * * *
"Now, word had come to Little John,
As he lay upon the grass,
That a friar red was in merry Sherwood
Without his leave to pass."
Little John inquires from his little foot-page what manner of man is this burly friar who intrudes into his domain.
"'My master good,' the little page said,
'His name I wot not well;
But he wears on his head a hat so red,
With a monstrous scallop-shell.
"'He says he is Prior of Copmanhurst,
And Bishop of London town,
And he comes with a rope from our Father the Pope
To put the outlaws down.'"
Little John searches the forest for his scarlet enemy—
"O'er holt and hill, through brake and breere,
He took his way alone.
* * * * *