Robin saw the busshement to-broke,
In green wood he would have be,
Many an arrow there was shot
Among that company.
Little John was hurt full sore,
With an arrow in his knee,
That he might neither go nor ride:
It was full great pit-e.
"Master," then said Little John,
"If ever thou lovest me,
And for that ilk-e Lord-es love,
That died upon a tree,
And for the meeds of my serv-ice,
That I have serv-ed thee,
Let nev-er the proud sher-iff
Aliv-e now find me;
But take out thy brown sword,
And smite all off my head,
And give me wound-es dead and wide,
That I after eat no bread."
"I wold-e not that," said Rob-in,
"John, that thou wer-e slawe,
For all the gold in merry England,
Though it lay now on a rawe."
"God forbid," said Little Much,
"That died on a tree,
That thou shouldest, Little John,
Part our company!"
Up he took him on his back,
And bare him well a mile,
Many a time he laid him down,
And shot another while.
Then was there a fair cast-ell,
A little within the wood,
Double-ditched it was about,
And wall-ed, by the rood;
And there dwelled that gentle knight,
Sir Richard at the Lee,
That Rob-in had lent his good,
Under the green wood tree.
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