A Jest Of Robin Hood
Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,
All that nowe be here;
Of Litell Johnn, that was the knighes man,
Goode myrth ye shall here.
It was upon a mery day
That yonge men wolde go shete;
Lytell Johnn fet his bowe anone,
And sayde he wolde them mete.
Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute,
And alwey he slet the wande;
The proud sherif of Notingham
By the marks can stande.
The sherif swore a full greate othe:
'By hym that dyede on a tre,
This man is the best arschére
That ever yet sawe I me.
'Say me nowe, wight yonge man,
What is nowe thy name?
In what countre were thou borne,
And where is thy wonynge wane?'
'In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,
I-wys al of my dame;
Men cal me Reynolde Grenlef
Whan I am at home.'
'Sey me, Reynolde Grenelefe,
Wolde thou dwell with me?
And every yere I woll the gyve
Twenty marke to thy fee.'
'I have a maister,' sayde Litell Johnn,
'A curteys knight is he;
May ye lev gete of hym,
The better may it be.'
The sherif gate Litell John
Twelve moneths of the knight;
Therfore he gave him right anone
A gode hors and a wight.
Nowe is Litell John the sherifs man,
God lende vs well to spede!
But alwey thought Lytell John
To quyte hym wele his mede.
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poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
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