The sheriff sat in Nottingham.

He was glad to be home.

And Robin and his merry men

Were in the woods alone.

 

“Let’s go eat,” said Little John.

Robin Hood said, “Nay.

I’m afraid Our Lady is mad at me,

For she has not sent my pay.”

 

“Have no doubt, master,” said Little John,

“The sun is not at rest.

For I dare say and safely swear,

The knight is of the best.”

 

“Take your bow in your hand,” said Robin,

“Let Much go with thee,

And also William Scarlett,

And no man stay with me.

 

“And walk up to the Saylis

And down to Watling Street,

And wait for some unknown guest

That you may chance to meet.

 

“Whether he be a messenger

Or a man that tells good stories,

He shall have some of my goods

If he is poor and hungry.”

 

Forth then went Little John,

Half in anger and grief,

And buckled on a full good sword

Under a mantle of green.

 

They went up to the Saylis,

These yeomen all three.

They looked east, they looked west,

No man did they see.

 

But as they looked into the greenwood

By the highway,

They were aware of two black monks

On good horses riding their way.

 

Then said Little John,

To Much he did say,

“I dare lay my life on the line,

These monks have brought our pay.

 

“Cheer up,” said Little John,

“And string your bows of yew,

And see that your hearts are firm and staunch

And your strings are trusty and true.

 

“These monks have two and fifty men

And seven packhorses, too.

There rides no bishop in this land

So royally as they do.

 

“Brethren,” said Little John,

“We are no more than three.

But if we don’t bring them to our dinner,

Our dinner we may not see.

           

“Bend your bows,” said Little John,

“Make the whole crowd stand.

The foremost monk, his life and his death

Are fastened in my hand.

 

“Stay, vulgar monk,” said Little John.

“Go no further than you stand.

If you do, by dear worthy God,

Your death is in my hand.

 

“And bad luck to your head,” said Little John,

“Right under your hatband.

For you’ve made our master angry,

He’s been fasting so long.”

 

“Who is your master?” said the monk.

Little John said, “Robin Hood.”

“He’s a strong thief,” said the monk.

“Of him I have never heard good.”

 

“You lie,” then said Little John,

“And for that you’ll be sorry.

He’s invited you to dinner,

And if I were you, I’d hurry.”

 

Much was ready with an arrow

And right there on the spot,

He held it against the monk’s breast

And off his horse he got.

 

Of two and fifty strong young yeomen

There remained not one,

Save a little page and a groom

To lead the packhorses with Little John.

           

They brought the monk to the lodge door

Whether he liked it or not,

To speak with Robin Hood

And eat from Robin’s pot.

 

Robin took off his hood

When he saw the monk.

The monk was not so courteous,

He left his hood on.

 

“He’s a churl, master, by dear worthy God,”

                        Then said Little John.

“Well, don’t force him,” said Robin,

“For courtesy has he none.

 

“How many men,” said Robin,

“Did this monk have, John?”

“Fifty and two when we met him,

But many of them are gone.”

 

“Blow the horn,” said Robin,

“So the fellowship may begin.”

Seven score of strong young yeomen

Came running into the glen.

 

And each one had a good mantle

Of striped cloth and red.

They all came to good Robin

And listened to what he said.

           

They made the monk wash up

And sat him down to dinner.

Robin Hood and Little John,

They both served him together.

           

“Eat up, monk,” said Robin.

“Thank you, sir,” said he.

“Where’s your abbey when you’re at home,

And who’s your patron saint?”

 

“Saint Mary’s Abbey,” said the monk,

“But I don’t have much power.”

“In what office?” said Robin.

“Sir, the high steward.”

 

“So much the better,” said Robin.

“You’re the man I wanted to see.

Pour out the best wine.

This monk shall drink to me.

 

“But it sure seems strange,” said Robin,

“All this long day

I’m afraid Our Lady is mad at me,

She has not sent my pay.”

 

“Have no doubt, master,” said Little John,

“You don’t need to worry.

This monk has brought it, I dare swear,

For he’s from her abbey.”

 

“And she was a sponsor,” said Robin,

“Between a knight and me

Of a little money I loaned him

Under the greenwood tree.

 

“If you’ve brought that silver,

I pray thee, let me see,

And I will help you anytime

If you have need of me.”

           

The monk swore a full great oath

With a sorry face.

“The arrangement that you’re talking about,

I never knew it took place.”

 

“I make my vow to God,” said Robin,

“Monk, you are to blame.

For God is always an honest Man,

And so is his Dame.

 

“You told me with your own tongue,

You may not say nay,

How you are Her servant

And serve Her everyday.

 

“And you’ve been made Her messenger

My money for to pay.

Therefore, I thank you all the more,

For you’ve come on your day.

 

“What’s in your trunks?” said Robin,

“Now tell me the truth.”

“Sir,” he said, “twenty marks.

I wouldn’t lie to you”

 

“If there be no more,” said Robin,

“I will not touch a penny,

And if you have need of any more,

More shall I lend thee.

 

“But if I find more,” said Robin,

“Truly, it shall be gone.

For of thy spending silver, monk,

I will leave thee none.

           

“Go forth now, Little John,

And bring the truth to me.

If there be no more than twenty marks,

Not a penny will I see.”

 

Little John spread his mantle down

As he had done before,

And he counted out of the monk’s trunk

Eight hundred pounds and more.

 

Little John let it lie full still

And went to his master in haste.

“Sir,” he said, “the monk is true enough.

Our Lady has doubled your pay.”

 

“I make my vow to God,” said Robin,

“Monk, what did I tell you?

Our Lady is the truest Woman

That I ever knew.

 

“By dear worthy God,” said Robin,

“To search all England over,

Yet I never found for my money

A much better sponsor.

 

“Pour out the best wine and let him drink

“And thank Our Lady, men.

If She ever has need of Robin Hood,

She will find in him a friend.

 

“And if She needs anymore silver,

Just come again to me,

And by this token She has sent

She shall have it free.”

           

The monk was going to London

There to hold his court,

To bring that knight under foot

That rode so high on horse.

                                               

“Where are you going?” said Robin.

“Sir, to the court of this land,

To reckon with our bailiffs.

They’re doing it wrong again.”

 

“Come forth now, Little John,

And listen to this monk.

I don’t know anyone better than you

To search a monk’s trunk.

 

“How much is in that other trunk?” said Robin.

“The truth we must see.”

“By Our Lady,” said the monk,

“You’re not very courteous to me.

 

“To ask a man to dinner

And then to rob him blind.”

“It is our manner,” said Robin,

“To leave but little behind.”

 

The monk took to his horse with spur,

No longer would he stay.

“Ask us for a drink,” said Robin,

“Before you ride away.”

 

“Nay, for God,” then said the monk.

“I’m sorry I came so near.

I might have eaten cheaper

At Blythe or Duncaster.”

           

“Tell your abbot hello,” said Robin,

“And your prior, too, I pray.

And ask them to send me such a monk

To dinner everyday.”

 

Now we’ll let that monk be still

And see about that knight.

He came to hold his day

While it was still light.

 

He went straight to the meeting place

Under the greenwood tree,

And there he found Robin Hood

And all his merry company.

 

The knight lit down off his good horse.

When Robin he did see,

So courteously he took off his hood

And got down on his knee.

           

“God save you, Robin Hood,

And all this company.”

“Welcome, gentle knight,

Right welcome are ye to me.”

 

Then said Robin Hood

To that knight so free,

“What need drove you to the greenwood?

I pray, sir knight, tell me.”

 

And “Welcome back, gentle knight.

Why were you gone so long?”

“Because the abbot and the chief justice

Would have done me wrong.”

           

“Do you have your land again?” said Robin.

“Now tell me the truth.”

“Yes, for God,” said the knight,

“Thanks to God and you.

 

“But don’t worry,” said the knight,

“That I’ve been gone so long.

I helped a yeoman at a wrestling match.

The crowd would have done him wrong.”

 

“Nay, for God,” said Robin. “Sir knight,

For that, my thanks to thee.

The man that helps a good yeoman,   

His friend will I be.”

 

“Here, have four hundred pounds,” said the knight,

“The which ye lent to me.

And here is also twenty marks,

For your courtesy.”

 

“Nay, for God,” said Robin.

“Spend it some other way.

For Our Lady, by Her high steward,

Has already sent my pay.

 

“And if I took it twice,

A shame it were to me.

But truly, gentle knight,

You’re a welcome sight to see.”

 

When Robin had told his tale,

He laughed and had good cheer.

“By my faith,” then said the knight,

“Your money is ready here.”

           

“Spend it well,” said Robin,

“You gentle knight so free.

And welcome be ye anytime

Under my greenwood tree.

 

“But what are these bows for?

“And these arrows feathered free?”

“For God,” then said the knight,

“A poor present to thee.”

 

“Come forth now, Little John,” said Robin,

“And go to my treasure

And bring me four hundred pounds.

The monk has over-measured.

 

“Here, have four hundred pounds,

Thou gentle knight and true.

And buy a good horse and saddle

And gild your spurs anew.

 

“And if you need any spending money,

Come to Robin Hood,

And by my faith, you shall not lack

While I have any goods.

 

“And spend well that four hundred pounds

Which I lent to thee.

And don’t go around so bare,

Just between you and me.”

 

Thus good Robin helped the knight

Out of all his care.

God that sits in Heaven high,

Grant us well to fare.

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