A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade, For he was a lusty young man.
For soon he would make them to fly.
While thorough the forest I rove.
My horn I will presently blow.
A stranger he chancd to espy.
I'll show you right Nottingham play.
If thou offerst to touch the string.
Before thou couldst strike me one blow.
The battel, and so we'll away.
And their staffs they did flourish about.
I'll give you as good as you bring.
As if they had been threshing of corn.
And followd his blows more severe.
As if he had been all on fire.
And floating along with the tide.
Our battle shall be at an end.
Straitway on his fine bugle-horn.
So up to their master they steered.
He is a stout fellow, forbear.
Thou shalt have my livery straight.
To shoot at the fat fallow-deer.
For we will be merry,' quoth he.
This pretty sweet babe they baptize.
Bold Robin the christening grac'd.
And did in this manner proceed.
And tippld strong liquor galore.
And gave him a curious long bow.
While bishops have ought in their purse.
And unto their caves they did go.
Still Little John they did him call.