The Noble Fisher-Man.
Or, Robin Hoods preferment; shewing how he won a prize on the sea, and how he gave
one half to his Dame, and the other to the building of Alms-houses.
The Tune is, In Summer time when leaves grow green.
|
IN summer time when leaves grow green,
|
when they grow both green and long,
|
Of a bold Out-law calld Robin Hood,
|
it is of him I sing my Song-
|
When the Lilly sweet and the Elephant,
|
doth bud and spring with a merry cheer,
|
This Out-law was weary of the Wood-side,
|
and chasing of the Fallow Deer.
|
The Fisher-men brave, more money have,
|
than any Merchant two or three,
|
Therefore I will to Scarbrough go,
|
that I a Fisher-man might be.
|
This out-law called his merry men all,
|
as they sat under the green wood tree,
|
If you have any Gold to spend
|
I pray you heartily spend it with me.
|
Now quoth Robin ile to Scarbrough go,
|
it seems to be a very fair day,
|
Who took up his Inn at a widdow-womans house,
|
hard by upon the waters gray,
|
Who asked him, where wert thou born,
|
or tell to me where thou dost fare,
|
I am a peer Fisher-man, said he then,
|
this day intrapped all in care.
|
What is thy name thou fine fellow,
|
I pray thee heartily tell it to me,
|
In mine own Country where I was born,
|
men call me Simon over the Lee.
|
Simon, Simon, said the good wife,
|
I wish thou mayest well brook thy name,
|
The Out-law was ware of her courtesie,
|
and rejoyced he had got such a Dame.
|
Simon, wilt thou be my man?
|
and good round wages I will give thee,
|
I have as good a Ship of mine own,
|
as any sails upon the Sea.
|
Anchors and Planks thou shalt not want,
|
Masts and Ropes that are so long,
|
And if thou thus furnish me,
|
said Simon nothing shall go wrong.
|
THey pluckt up Anchor and away did sail,
|
more of a day then two or three,
|
When others cast in their baited hooks,
|
the bare Lines into the Sea cast he.
|
It will be long said the Master then,
|
ere this great lubber do thrive on the Sea,
|
Ill assure he shall have no part of our fish,
|
for in truth he is no part worthy.
|
O wo is me, said Simon then,
|
this day that ever I came here,
|
I wish I were in Plompton Park,
|
in chasing of the Fallow Deer.
|
For every Clown laughs me to scorn
|
and they by me set nothing at all,
|
If I had them in Plompton Park,
|
I would set as little by them all.
|
They pluck up Anchor and away did sail
|
more of a day than two or three,
|
But Simon espyed a Ship of War
|
that sailed towards them valourously,
|
O woe is me, said the Master then,
|
this day that ever I was born:
|
For all our fish that we have got,
|
is every bit lost and forlorn,
|
For yon French Robber on the Sea,
|
they will not spare of us one Man,
|
But carry us to the Coast of France,
|
and lay us in the Prison strong.
|
But Simon said, do not fear them,
|
neither Master take you any care,
|
Give me my bent Bow in my hand,
|
and never a French-man will I spare.
|
Hold thy peace, thou long Lubber,
|
for thou art nought but brags and boasts,
|
If I should cast thee over board,
|
theres but a simple Lubber lost.
|
Simon grew angry at these words,
|
and so angry then was he,
|
That he took his bent bow in his hand,
|
and to the Ship hatch go doth he.
|
Master tye me to the Mast,
|
that at my Mark I may stand fair;
|
And give me my bent bow in my hand,
|
and never a French-man will I spare.
|
He drew his Arrow to the very head,
|
and drew it with all might and main,
|
And streightway in the twinkling of an eye
|
doth the French mans heart the Arrow gain
|
The French-man fell down on the ship-catch
|
and under the Hatches here below,
|
Another French-man that him espyd,
|
the dead corps into the Sea doth throw.
|
O Master loose me from the Mast, he said
|
and for them all take you no care,
|
And give me my bent bow in my hand,
|
and never a French-man will I spare.
|
Then they boarded the French Ship,
|
they lying all dead in their sight,
|
They found within the Ship of War,
|
twelve thousand pound in Money bright.
|
The one half of the ship, said Simon then,
|
ile give to my Dame and Children small,
|
The other part of the ship, ile give,
|
to you that are my fellows all.
|
But now bespake the Master then,
|
for so Simon it shall not be,
|
For you have won it with your own hands,
|
and the owner thereof you must be.
|
It shall be so as I have said,
|
and with this Gold for the opprest,
|
An Habitation I will build,
|
where they did live in peace and rest.
|
|
|
|
|
|