The Book of Ballads Part 15

A LAY OF SHERWOOD.

FYTTE THE FIRST.

The deer may leap within the glade; The fawns may follow free-- For Robin is dead, and his bones are laid Beneath the greenwood tree.

And broken are his merry, merry men, That goodly companie: There's some have ta'en the northern road With Jem of Netherbee.

The best and bravest of the band With Derby Ned are gone; But Earlie Grey and Charlie Wood, They stayed with Little John.

Now Little John was an outlaw proud, A prouder ye never saw; Through Nottingham and Leicester s.h.i.+res He thought his word was law, And he strutted through the greenwood wide, Like a pestilent jackdaw.

He swore that none, but with leave of him, Should set foot on the turf so free: And he thought to spread his cutter's rule, All over the south countrie.

"There's never a knave in the land," he said, "But shall pay his toll to me!"

And Charlie Wood was a taxman good As ever stepped the ground, He levied mail, like a st.u.r.dy thief, From all the yeomen round.

"Nay, stand!" quoth he, "thou shalt pay to me Seven pence from every pound!"

Now word has come to Little John, As he lay upon the gra.s.s, That a Friar red was in merry Sherwood Without his leave to pa.s.s.

"Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page!

Ben Hawes, come tell to me, What manner of man is this burly frere Who walks the wood so free?"

"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-sh.e.l.l.

"He says he is Prior of Copmanshurst, And Bishop of London town, And he comes with a rope from our father the Pope, To put the outlaws down.

"I saw him ride but yester-tide, With his jolly chaplains three; And he swears that he has an open pa.s.s From Jem of Netherbee!"

Little John has ta'en an arrow so broad, And broken it o'er his knee; "Now may I never strike doe again, But this wrong avenged shall be!

"And has he dared, this greasy frere, To trespa.s.s in my bound, Nor asked for leave from Little John To range with hawk and hound?

"And has he dared to take a pa.s.s From Jem of Netherbee, Forgetting that the Sherwood shaws Pertain of right to me?

"O were he but a simple man, And not a slip-shod frere!

I'd hang him up by his own waist-rope Above yon tangled brere.

"O did he come alone from Jem, And not from our father the Pope, I'd bring him into Copmanshurst, With the noose of a hempen rope!

"But since he has come from our father the Pope, And sailed across the sea, And since he has power to bind and lose, His life is safe for me; But a heavy penance he shall do Beneath the greenwood tree!"

"O tarry yet!" quoth Charlie Wood, "O tarry, master mine!

It's ill to shear a yearling hog, Or twist the wool of swine!

"It's ill to make a bonny silk purse From the ear of a bristly boar; It's ill to provoke a shaveling's curse, When the way lies him before.

"I've walked the forest for twenty years, In wet weather and dry, And never stopped a good fellowe, Who had no coin to buy.

"What boots it to search a beggarman's bags, When no silver groat he has?

So, master mine, I rede you well, E'en let the friar pa.s.s!"

"Now cease thy prate," quoth Little John, "Thou j.a.pest but in vain; An he have not a groat within his pouch, We may find a silver chain.

"But were he as bare as a new-flayed buck, As truly he may be, He shall not tread the Sherwood shaws Without the leave of me!"

Little John has taken his arrows and bow, His sword and buckler strong, And lifted up his quarter-staff, Was full three cloth yards long.

And he has left his merry men At the trysting-tree behind, And gone into the gay greenwood, This burly frere to find.

O'er holt and hill, through brake and brere, He took his way alone-- Now, Lordlings, list and you shall hear This geste of Little John.

FYTTE THE SECOND.

'Tis merry, 'tis merry in gay greenwood, When the little birds are singing, When the buck is belling in the fern, And the hare from the thicket springing!

'Tis merry to hear the waters clear, As they splash in the pebbly fall; And the ouzel whistling to his mate, As he lights on the stones so small.

But small pleasaunce took Little John In all he heard and saw; Till he reached the cave of a hermit old Who wonned within the shaw.

"_Ora pro n.o.bis_!" quoth Little John-- His Latin was somewhat rude-- "Now, holy father, hast thou seen A frere within the wood?

"By his scarlet hose, and his ruddy nose, I guess you may know him well; And he wears on his head a hat so red, And a monstrous scallop-sh.e.l.l."

"I have served Saint Pancras," the hermit said, "In this cell for thirty year, Yet never saw I, in the forest bounds, The face of such a frere!

"An' if ye find him, master mine, E'en take an old man's advice, An' raddle him well, till he roar again, Lest ye fail to meet him twice!"

"Trust me for that!" quoth Little John-- "Trust me for that!" quoth he, with a laugh; "There never was man of woman born, That asked twice for the taste of my quarter-staff!"

Then Little John, he strutted on, Till he came to an open bound, And he was aware of a Red Friar, Was sitting upon the ground.

His shoulders they were broad and strong, And large was he of limb; Few yeomen in the north countrie Would care to mell with him.

He heard the rustling of the boughs, As Little John drew near; But never a single word he spoke, Of welcome or of cheer: Less stir he made than a pedlar would For a small gnat in his ear!

I like not his looks! thought Little John, Nor his staff of the oaken tree.

Now may our Lady be my help, Else beaten I well may be!

"What dost thou here, thou strong Friar, In Sherwood's merry round, Without the leave of Little John, To range with hawk and hound?"

"Small thought have I," quoth the Red Friar, "Of any leave, I trow; That Little John is an outlawed thief, And so, I ween, art thou!

"Know, I am Prior of Copmanshurst, And Bishop of London town, And I bring a rope from our father the Pope, To put the outlaws down."