A Little Gest of Robin Hood


The Second Fit

Now is the knight gone on his way.
This game he thought full good.
When he looked on the greenwood,
He blessed Robin Hood.

When he thought on the greenwood,
On Scarlett, Much and John,
He blessed them for the best company
He'd ever come upon.

Then spoke that gentle knight,
To Little John he did say,
"Tomorrow I must to Yorktown,
To Saint Mary's Abbey.

"And to the abbot of that place
Four hundred pounds deliver.
If I'm not there by tomorrow night
My land is lost forever."

The abbot said to his convent,
There he stood on ground,
"Twelve months ago a knight came here
And borrowed four hundred pounds.

"He borrowed four hundred pounds
Against all his land free.
If he doesn't come this very day,
Disinherited shall he be."
"It's too early," said the prior.
"The day is not far gone.
I'd rather pay a hundred pounds
And lie down soon.

"The knight is far beyond the sea,
In England is his right.
He suffers hunger and cold
And many a sorry night.

"It would be a great pity," said the prior,
"To have his land this way.
If ye be so light of your conscience
You'll do him wrong today."

"Thou art ever in my beard," said the abbot,
"By God and Saint Richard!"
With that came in a fat-headed monk,
The high steward.

"He is dead or hanged," said the monk,
"By God that bought me dear,
And we shall have to spend in this place
Four hundred pounds a year."

The abbot and the high steward
Started forth full bold.
The high justice of England
The abbot there did hold.

The high justice and many more
Had taken into their hands
All the knight's debt,
To have that knight's land.

They wouldn't give the knight a minute,
The abbot and his men.
"Unless he comes this very day,
He loses all his land."

"He won't come soon," said the justice.
"We have not long to wait."
But in sorrow time for them all
The knight came to the gate.

Then said that gentle knight,
To all his men said he,
"Now put on your simple clothes
That you brought from the sea."

They put on their simple clothes.
They came to the gates soon.
The porter was ready to let them in
And welcomed them everyone.

"Welcome, sir knight," said the porter.
"My lord to measure is he,
And so is many a gentleman,
For the love of thee."

The porter swore a full great oath,
"By God that made me,
Here is the best cursed horse
Ever I yet did see.

"Lead them to the stable," he said,
"So they can take their ease."
"They'll not go in there," said the knight,
"By God that died on a tree."

Lords have gone to measure
Inside that abbot's hall.
The knight went forth and kneeled
And saluted them great and small.

"How do you do, sir abbot," said the knight.
"I've come to hold my day."
The first word the abbot spoke,
"Have you brought my pay?"

"Not one penny," said the knight,
"By God that made me."
"You are a shrewd debtor," said the abbot.
"Sir justice, drink to me."

"What are you doing here," said the abbot,
"If you didn't bring your pay?"
"For God," then said the knight,
"To pray for a longer day."

"Your day is broke," said the justice.
"You can't pay what you owe."
"Now good sir justice, be my friend,
And defend me from my foes."

"I hold with the abbot," said the justice.
"He gave me some clothes and a fee."
"Now good sir sheriff, be my friend."
"No, by God," said he.

"Now good sir abbot, be my friend,
And show some courtesy,
And hold my lands in thy hand
Til we can all agree.

"And I will be your true servant
And serve you faithfully,
Until you have four hundred pounds
Of money, good and free."

The abbot swore a full great oath,
"By God that died on a tree,
Get the land where you may,
For you'll get none from me."

"By dear worthy God," then said the knight,
"That all this world wrought,
If ever I have my land again
Full dear it shall be bought.
"God that was of a maiden born,
Grant us all His help,
For it is good to help a friend
When he cannot help himself."

The abbot loathely on him looked
And names began to call.
"Out," he said, "you false knight,
Get out of my hall."

"You lie," then said the gentle knight,
"Abbot, in your hall.
False knight I never was,
By God that made us all."

Up then stood that gentle knight.
To the abbot said he,
"To suffer a knight to kneel so long,
You show no courtesy.

"In jousts and in tournaments
Full fair have I always been,
And put myself as thick in the fight
As any I've ever seen."

"How much will you give," said the justice,
"For the knight to make a release?
Or else I dare safely swear
You'll never hold your land in peace."

"A hundred pounds," said the abbot.
The justice said, "Give him two."
"No, by God," said the knight.
"You'll not get it so.

"Though you give me a thousand more,
Yet were you never the nearer.
You shall never be my heir,
Abbot, justice or friar."

He started for the board then,
To a table round,
And there he shook out of a bag
An even four hundred pounds.

"Here is your gold, sir abbot," said the knight,
"Which you loaned to me.
Had you been courteous at my coming,
Rewarded you would be."

The abbot sat still and said no more,
For all his royal fare.
He cast his head on his shoulders
And fast began to stare.

"Give me my gold," said the abbot,
"Sir justice, that I gave thee."
"Not a penny," said the justice,
"By God that died on a tree."

"Sir abbot and you men of law,
Now I have held my day.
Now I shall have my land again,
For all that you can say."

The knight walked out the door.
Gone was all his care.
He put on his good clothes,
The others he left there.

He went forth merrily singing
As men have told in tale.
His lady met him at the gate
At home in Verysdale.

"Welcome, my lord," said his lady.
"Have you lost your goods?"
"Be merry, dame," said the knight,
"And pray for Robin Hood,

"That ever his soul may be in bliss.
He's helped you and me.
Had it not been for his kindness,
Beggars we would be.

"The abbot and I are settled.
He's got all his pay.
The good yeoman loaned it to me
As I came by the way."

This knight then dwelled at home,
Doing what he could,
Til he had four hundred pounds
To pay back Robin Hood.

He bought a hundred bows,
The strings were furnished right.
A hundred sheaths of arrows gold,
The heads were burnished bright.

And every arrow an ell long
With peacock feathers bright,
Nocked all with white silver.
It was a handsome sight.
He got a hundred men
And decked them out alike,
And he dressed himself in the same suit
With cloth of red and white.

He held a lance in his hand,
Light glistened off his mail.
He rode with a light song
Along the greenwood trail.

But as he came to a bridge,
He stopped awhile to watch.
The best yeomen of the west were there
Having a wrestling match.

A full fair game it was.
A white bull was put up,
A great horse with saddle and bridle
And a bright gold stirrup.

A pair of gloves, a red gold ring,
A jug of wine -- the play:
The man that beareth himself the best
Shall bear the prize away.

There was a yeoman in that place
And the worthiest one was he.
But because he was a stranger there,
Slain he soon would be.

The knight had pity on this yeoman
In the place where he stood.
He said that yeoman should have no harm
For love of Robin Hood.

The knight pressed into the place,
A hundred followed him free,
With bows bent and arrows sharp
To part that company.

They shouldered all and made him room
To see what he would say.
He took the yeoman by the hand
And awarded him the play.

He gave him five marks for his wine,
There it lay on the ground,
And bad would it sit with anyone
Who tried to drink it now.

A long time tarried this gentle knight
Til that game was through.
So long waited Robin fasting
Three hours after the noon.



Traditional Ballads
Original: "A Lyttell Geste of Robyn Hode" XV-XVI siècle
Modern version: Bob Frank 2002