He took Sir Guy's head by the hayre, And sticked itt on his bowes end: Thou hast been a traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must have an ende.' Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked Sir Guy in the face, That he was never on woman borne, Could tell whose head it was. If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, Thou shalt have the better clothe.' Robin did off his gowne of greene, And on Sir Guye did it throwe, That cladd him topp to toe. The bowe, the arrowes, and little horne, To see how my men doe fare.' Robid Hood sett Guyes horn to his mouth, Hearken, hearken,' sayd the sheriffe, Yonder I heare Sir Guy's horne blowe, And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, Come hither, come hither, thou good Sir Aske what thou wilt of mee.' But now I've slaine the master,' he sayes, Nor noe other will I have.' Thou art a madman,' said the sheriffe, 'Thou sholdst have had a knight's fee; But seeing thy asking hath been soe bad, Well granted it shale be.' When Little John heard his master speake, Saies, Lye there, lye there, now Sir Guye, Fast Robin he hyed him to Little John, L* He thought to loose him belive ; THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF ROBIN HOOD. THIS ballad, though in style comparatively modern, is without doubt founded on one of ancient date. It is extracted from Ritson's " Collection of all the Ancient Poems, Songs, and Ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English Outlaw, Robin Hood." The manner in which he was done to death, though historically true, if we may believe the Harleian M S. in the British Museum, has not been so ge erally the subject of Song, as have been the varied exploits and adventures of himself and Little John. |