The Famous Battle between Robin Hood, and the Curtal Fryer. To a new Northern Tune. ROBIN HOOD. THE Curtal Fryer. Little John.
|
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 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 kild a Buck
|
and Midas he kild a Doe,
|
And little John kild a Hart of Greece,
|
five hundred foot him fro.
|
Gods blessing on thy heart said Robin Hood
|
that shot such a shoot to me,
|
I would ride my horse a hundred miles
|
to find one could match thee,
|
That caused Will Scadlock to laugh,
|
he laught full heartily,
|
there lives a curtal Fryer in fountains abby
|
will beat both him and thee.
|
That Curtal Fryer in Fountains abby
|
well can a strong Bow draw,
|
He will beat you and your yeomen,
|
set them all on a row.
|
Robin Hood took a solemn Oath,
|
it was by Mary free,
|
That he would neither eat nor drink
|
till the Fryer he did see.
|
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 made 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 Fryer
|
walking by the water side.
|
The Fryer had on 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 Fryer,
|
or else thy lifes forlorn.
|
The Fryer 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 stepd Robin Hood off the Fryers back,
|
the Fryer said to him again,
|
Carry me over this water thou fine fellow
|
or it shall breed thy pain.
|
Robin Hood took the Fryer on his back
|
deep water he did bestride.
|
And spake neither good word nor bad
|
till he came at the other side.
|
Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods back
|
Robin Hood said to him again,
|
Carry me over this water thou Curtal Fryer
|
or it shall breed thy pain.
|
The Fryer took Robin Hood ons 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
|
whether thou wilt sink or swim.
|
Robin Hood swam to a bush of Broom,
|
the Fryer 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 Fryer he let fly,
|
The Curtle Fryer 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 all his arrows were gone,
|
They took their Swords an Steel Bucklers,
|
they fought with might and main.
|
From ten oth clock that day
|
till four ith afternoon,
|
Then Robin Hood came to Knees
|
of Fryer to beg a boon.
|
A boon, a boon thou Curtal Fryer,
|
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 Fryer,
|
of thy blasts I have no doubt,
|
I hope thoult blow so passing well,
|
till both thy eyes fall out.
|
Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth,
|
he blew but blasts three,
|
Half a hundred Yeomen with Bows bent
|
came ranging over the Lee.
|
Whose men are these said the Fryer
|
that come so hastily,
|
These are mine, said Robin Hood,
|
Fryer what is that to thee.
|
A boon, a boon, said the Curtal Fryer
|
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 Fryer fist
|
would make me glad and fain.
|
The Fryer set his fist to his mouth,
|
and whuted whutes three,
|
Half a hundred good Bay-dogs,
|
came running the Fryer unto.
|
Here is for every man a Dog,
|
and I my self for thee,
|
Nay by my faith, quoth Robin Hood,
|
Fryer 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 Curtle Dogs so taught they were,
|
they caught the arrows in their mouth.
|
Take up thy Dogs said little John,
|
Fryer at my bidding be,
|
Whose man art thou, said the Curtal Fryer
|
comes here to prate with me.
|
I am little John, Robin Hoods man
|
Fryer I will not lye,
|
If thou take not up thy Dogs soon
|
Ile 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 Fryers Dogs,
|
lay dead upon the plain.
|
Hold thy hand good fellow, said the Curtal Fryer,
|
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 Sunday through the year,
|
a Noble shall be thy fee.
|
And every Holly-day through the Year
|
changed shall thy Garments be,
|
If thou wilt go to fair Nottingham,
|
and there remain with me.
|
This Curtal Frier had kept Fountain Dale,
|
seven long years and more,
|
There was neither Knight Lord nor Earl,
|
could make him yield before.
|
|
|
|
|
|