THE THYRDE FYTTE.
Lithe and listen, gentle men,
All that now be here,
Of Little John, that was the knight's man,
Good mirth ye shall hear.
It was upon a merry day,
That young men would go shete,
Little John fet his bow anon,
And said he would them meet.
Three times Little John shot about,
And always cleft the wand,
The proud sher-iff of Nottingham
By the marks gan stand.
The sheriff swore a full great oath,
"By him that died on a tree,
This man is the best arch-er
That ever yet saw I me.
Sa-y me now, wight young man,
What is now thy name?
In what country were thou born,
And where is thy wonning wan?"
"In Hold-ernesse I was bore,
I-wis all of my dame,
Men call me Reynold Greenleaf,
Whan I am at hame."
"Say me, Reynold Greenleaf,
Wilt thou dwell with me?
And every year I will thee give
Twent-y mark to thy fee."
"I have a master," said Little John,
"A curteys knight is he,
Ma-y ye get leave of him,
The better may it be."
The sher-iff gat Little John
Twelve months of the knight,
Theref-ore he gave him right anon
A good horse and a wight.
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