"
"Now, an thou lose thy land," said Robin,
"What shall fall of thee?"
"Hastily I will me busk," said the knight,
"Over the salt-e sea,
And see where Christ was quick and dead,
On the mount of Calvar-y.
Fare well, friend, and have good day,
It may no better be"--
Tears fell out of his eyen two,
He would have gone his way--
"Fare well, friends, and have good day,
I ne have more to pay."
"Where be thy friends?" said Rob-in.
"Sir, never one will me know;
While I was rich enow at home
Great boast then would they blow,
And now they run away from me,
As beast-es on a row;
They take no more heed of me
Than they me never saw."
For ruth-e then wept Little John,
Scathelocke and Much also.
"Fill of the best wine," said Rob-in,
"For here is a simple cheer.
Hast thou any friends," said Robin,
"Thy borowes that will be?"
"I have none," then said the knight,
"But him that died on a tree."
"Do way thy jap-es!" said Rob-in,
"Thereof will I right none;
Weenest thou I will have God to borowe?
Peter, Paul, or John?
Nay, by him that me made,
And shope both sun and moon,
Find a better borowe," said Robin,
"Or money gettest thou none.
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