The Famous Battel between Robin Hood, and the Curtal Fryar. To a New Northern Tune.
|
IN Summer time when leaves grow green
|
and flowers are fresh and gay,
|
Robin Hood and his merry men,
|
were disposed to play:
|
Then some would leap and some would Run,
|
and some would use Artillery,
|
Which of you can a good Bow draw,
|
a good Archer to be?
|
Which of you can kill a Buck?
|
or who can kill a Doe?
|
Or who can kill a Hart of Greece,
|
five hundred foot him fro?
|
Will Scadlock he kill'd a Buck,
|
and Midge he kill'd a Doe;
|
And little John kill'd a Hart of Greece;
|
five hundred foot him fro:
|
Gods blessing on they heart, said Robin Hood
|
that shot such a shoot to me,
|
I would ride my Horse an hundred miles,
|
to find one could match thee.
|
That caused Will Scadlock to laugh,
|
he laught full heartily.
|
There lives a curtal Fryar in Fountain-Abby
|
will beat both him and thee.
|
Robin Hood put on his Harness good,
|
and on his head a Cap of Steel,
|
Broad Sword and Buckler by his side,
|
and they became him weel.
|
He took his Bow into his hand,
|
it was of a trusty tree,
|
With a Sheaf of Arrows at his Belt,
|
to the Fountains Dale went he.
|
And coming unto Fountains Dale,
|
no farther would he ride.
|
There was he ware of a Curtal Fryar,
|
walking by the water side.
|
The Fryar had a Harness good,
|
and on his head a Cap of Steel,
|
Broad Sword and Buckler by his side,
|
and they became him weel.
|
Robin Hood lighted off his Horse,
|
and tyed him to a thorn,
|
Carry me over the water thou Curtal Fryar,
|
or else thy life's forlorn.
|
The Fryar took Robin Hood on his back,
|
deep water he did bestride,
|
And spake neither good word nor bad,
|
till he came at the other side.
|
Lightly stept Rob. Hood off the Fryars back,
|
the Fryar said to him again,
|
Carry me over the water thou fine fellow,
|
or it shall breed thy pain.
|
Robin Hood took the Fryar on his back,
|
deep water he did bestride,
|
And speak neither good word nor bad,
|
till he came to the other side.
|
Lightly leapt the Fryar off Robin Hoods back
|
Robin Hood said to him again,
|
Carry me over the water thou Curtal Fryar,
|
or it shall breed thy pain.
|
The Fryar took Robin Hood on's back again
|
and stept up to the knee,
|
Till he came at the middle stream,
|
neither good nor bad spake he.
|
And coming to the middle stream,
|
there he threw Robin in,
|
And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow,
|
with thou wilt sink or swim.
|
|
|
|
|
The second part, to the same Tune.
|
Robin Hood swam to a bush of Broom,
|
the Fryar to a wigger wand,
|
Bold Robin Hood is gone to the shore,
|
and took his Bow in hand.
|
One of his best Arrows under his Belt,
|
to the Fryar he let flye,
|
The Curtal Fryar with his Steel Buckler,
|
he put that Arrow by.
|
Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow,
|
shoot as thou hast begun,
|
If thou shoot here a Summers day,
|
thy mark I will not shun.
|
Robin Hood shot so passing well,
|
till his Arrows were all gone,
|
They took their Swords and steel Bucklers,
|
they fought with might and main,
|
From ten o'th Clock that day,
|
till four i'th Afternoon,
|
Then Robin Hood came to his knees,
|
of the Fryar to beg a boon.
|
A boon, a boon, thou Curtal Fryar,
|
I beg it on my knee,
|
Give me leave to set my Horn to my mouth,
|
and to blow blasts three.
|
That will I do, said the Curtal Fryar,
|
of thy blasts I have no doubt,
|
I hope thou'lt blow so passing well,
|
till both thy eyes fall out.
|
Robin Hood set his Horn to his mouth,
|
he blew out blasts three,
|
Half a hundred Yeomen with Bows bent,
|
came ranging over the Lee.
|
Whose men are these, said the Fryar,
|
that come so hastily?
|
These men are mine, said Robin Hood,
|
Fryar, what is that to thee.
|
A boon, a boon, said the Curtal Fryar,
|
the like I gave to thee,
|
Give me leave to set my Fist to my mouth,
|
and to whute whutes three.
|
That will I do, said Robin Hood,
|
or else I were to blame,
|
Three whutes in a Fryars Fist,
|
would make me glad and fain.
|
The Fryar he set his Fist to his mouth,
|
and whuted whutes three,
|
Half a hundred good bay Dogs,
|
came running the Fryar unto.
|
Here is for every man a Dog,
|
and I my self for thee.
|
Nay by my faith, quoth Robin Hood,
|
Fryar that may not be.
|
Two Dogs at once to Robin Hood did go,
|
the one behind the other before,
|
Robin Hoods Mantle of Lincoln green,
|
off from his back they tore.
|
And whether his men shot East or West,
|
or they shot North or South,
|
The Cutrtles Dogs so taught they were,
|
they caught the Arrows in their mouth.
|
Take up thy Dogs, said little John,
|
Fryar at my bidding be,
|
Whose man art thou, said the Curtal Fryar,
|
comes here to prate with me?
|
I am little John, Robin Hoods man,
|
Fryar I will not lye,
|
If thou take not up thy Dogs soon,
|
i'le take up them and thee.
|
Little John had a Bow in his hand,
|
he shot with might and main,
|
Soon half a score of the Fryars Dogs,
|
lay dead upon the plain.
|
Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said the Curtal Fryar,
|
thy Master and I will agree,
|
And we will have new orders taken,
|
with all the hast that may be.
|
If thou wilt forsake fair Fountain Dale,
|
and Fountain-Abby free,
|
Every Sundy through the year,
|
a Noble shall be thy fee.
|
And every Holiday through the year
|
changed shall thy Garments be,
|
If thou wilt go to fair Nottingham,
|
and there remain with me.
|
This Curtal Fryar had kept Fountain Dale,
|
seven long years and more,
|
There was neither Knight, Lord, nor Earl,
|
could make him yield before.
|
|
|
|
|