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and listen, gentlemen, That's come of high born blood; I'll tell you of a brave booting That befel Robin Hood. Robin Hood upon a day, He went forth him alone, And as he came from Barnesdale Into a fair evening, He met a beggar on the way, That sturdily could gang; He had a pike-staff in his hand, That was baith stark and strang. A clouted cloak about him was, That held him from the cold; The thinnest bit of it, I guess, Was more than twenty fold. His meal-pock hang about his neck, Into a leathern fang, Well fasteneg with a broad buckle, That was both stark and strang. He had three hats upon his head, Together sticked fast; He cared neither for wind nor weet, In lands wherever he past. Good Robin coost him in his way, To see what he might be; If any beggar had money, He thought some part had he. 'Tarry, tarry,' good Robin says, 'Tarry, and speak with me;' He heard him as he heard [him] not, And fast his way can hie. 'It be's not so,' says good Robin, 'Nay, thou must tarry still;' 'By my troth,' says the bold beggar, 'Of that I have no will. 'rrit is far to my lodging-house, And it is growing late; If they have supt ere I come in, I will look wondrous blate.' 'Now, by my troth,' says good Robin, 'I see well by thy fare, If thou chear well to thy supper, Of mine thou takes no care; 'Who wants my dinner all the day, And wots not where to lie, And should I to the tavern go, I want money to buy. 'Sir, thou must lend me some money, Till we two meet again:' The beggar answerd cankerdly, I have no money to lend. Thou art as young a man as I, And seems to be as sweer; If thou fast till thou get from me, Thou shalt eat none this year. 'Now, by my troth,' says good Robin, 'Since we are sembled so, If thou have but a small farthing, I'll have it ere thou go. Therefore, lay down thy clouted cloak, And do no longer stand, And loose the strings of all thy pocks: I'll ripe them with my hand. 'And now to thee I make a vow, If thou make any din, I shall see if a broad arrow Can pierce a beggar's skin.' The beggar smil'd, and answer made: Far better let me be; Think not that I will be afraid For thy nip crooked tree. Or that I fear thee any whit For thy curn nips of sticks; I know no use for them so meet As to be pudding-pricks. Here I defy thee to do me ill, For all thy boistrous fare; Thou's get nothing from me but ill, Would thou seek it evermair. Good Robin bent his noble bow-+--+- He was an angry man-+--+- And in it set a broad arrow; Yet er 'twas drawn a span, The beggar, with his noble tree, Reacht him so round a rout That his bow and his broad arrow In flinders flew about. Good Robin bound him to his brand, But that provd likewise vain; The beggar lighted on his hand With his pike-staff again. I wot he might not draw a sword For forty days and more; Good Robin could not speak a word, His heart was never so sore. He could not fight, he could not flee, He wist not what to do; The beggar, with his noble tree, Laid lusty flaps him to. He paid good Robin back and side, And beft him up and down, And with his pike-staff still on laid Till he fell in a swoon. 'Fy! stand up, man,' the beggar said, 'Tis shame to go to rest; Stay still till thou get thy mony [told], I think it were the best. 'And syne go to the tavern-house, And buy both wine and ale; Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse, Thou has been at a dale.' Good Robin answerd never a word, But lay still as a stane; His cheeks were white as any clay, And closed were his eyne. The beggar thought him dead but fail, And boldly bownd away; I would you had been at the dale, And gotten part of the play. Now three of Robin's men, by chance, Came walking on the way, And found their master in a trance, On ground where he did lie. Up have they taken good Robin, Making a piteous bier, Yet saw they no man there at whom They might the matter spear. They looked him all round about, But wounds on him saw none, Yet at his mouth came bocking out The blood of a good vein. Cold water they have taken syne, And cast into his face; Then he began to lift his eyne, And spake within short space. 'Tell us, dear master,' says his men, 'How with you stands the case?' Good Robin sighd ere he began To tell of his disgrace. 'I have been watchman in this wood Near hand this forty year, Yet I was never so hard bestead As you have found me here. 'A beggar with a clouted cloak, In whom I feard no ill, Hath with a pike-staff clawed my back; I fear 't shall never be well. 'See, where he goes out oer yon hill, With hat upon his head; If ever you lovd your master well, Go now revenge this deed. 'And bring him back again to me, If it lie in your might, That I may see, before I die, Him punisht in my sight.