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KOBIN HOOD AND THE POTTEK. |
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He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe, And thankyd her of all thyng :
" Dam, for mey loffe, and ye well thys wer Y geffe yow her a golde ryng."
" Gramarsey," seyde the weyffe,
" Sir, god eylde het the ;" The screffes hart was never so leythe,
The feyr forest to se.
And when he cam ynto the foreyst,
Yonder the leffes grene, Berdys ther sange on bowhes prest,
Het was gret joy to sene.
" Her het ys merey to be," seyde Eoben, " For a man that had hawt to spende ;
Be mey home we schall awet Yeff Roben Hode be ner hande."
Roben set hes home to hes mowthe, And blow a blast that was foil god,
That herde hes men that ther stode, Fer downe yn the wodde ;
" I her mey master " seyde Ley tell John; They ran as thay wer wode.
Whan thay to thar master cam, Leytell John wold not spar ; •
MS. 250, goy. 251, se. 254, he. 255, her. 259. For. |
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