Lithe and listen, gentle men,
And hearken what I shall say,
How the proud sheriff of Nottingham
Did cry a full fair play;
That all the best archers of the north
Should come upon a day,
And they that shoot all of the best
The game shall bear away.
'He that shooteth all of the best
Furthest fair and law,
At a pair of fynly butts,
Under the green wood shaw,
A right good arrow he shall have,
The shaft of silver white,
The head and the feathers of rich red gold,
In England is none like.'
This then heard good Rob-in,
Under his trystell tree:
"Make you ready, ye wight young men,
That shooting will I see.
Busk you, my merr-y young men,
Ye shall go with me;
And I will wete the sheriff's faith,
True an if he be."
When they had their bows i-bent,
Their tackles feathered free,
Seven score of wight young men
Stood by Robin's knee.
When they came to Nottingham,
The butts were fair and long,
Many was the bold arch-er
That shooted with bow-es strong.
"There shall but six shoot with me,
The other shall keep my head,
And stand with good bow-es bent
That I be not deceived.
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