«O that were a shame, said jolly Robin,
We being three and thou but one.»
The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot,
'T was thirty good foot and one.
He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,
And his foot against a stone
And there he fought a long summers day,
A summers day so long,
Till that their swords on their broad bucklers
Were broke fast unto their hands....
«I pass not for length, bold Arthur replyed,
My staff is of oke so free;
Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf,
And I hope it will knock thee down.»
Then Robin could no longer forbear,
He gave him such a knock,
Quickly and soon the blood came down,
Before it was ten a clock.
Then Arthur he soon recovered himself,
And gave him such a knock on the crown,
That from every side of bold Robin head,
The blood came trickling down.
Then Robin raged like a wild boar,
As soon as he saw his own blood:
Then Bland was in hast he laid on so fast,
As though he had been cleaving of wood.
And about and about, and about they went,
Like two wild bores in a chase.
Striving to aim each other to maim,
Leg, arm, or any other place.
And knock for knock they lustily dealt,
Which held for two hours and more,
Till all the wood rang at every bang,
They plyed their work so sore.