“By the faith of my body,” said bold Robin Hood, “I never saw woman like thee; And com’st thou from east, ay, or com’st thou from west, Thou needst not beg venison of me.
“However, along to my bower you shall go, And taste of a forrester’s meat:” And when we come thither we found as good cheer As any man needs for to eat.
For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold, Cream clouted, with honey-combs plenty; And the sarvitors they were, besides Little John, Good yeomen at least four and twenty.
Clorinda said, “Tell me your name, gentle sir:” And he said, “’Tis bold Robin Hood: Squire Gamwel’s my uncle, but all my delight Is to dwell in the merry Sherwood;
“For ’tis a fine life, and ’tis void of all strife.” “So ’tis, sir,” Clorinda reply’d. “But oh!” said bold Robin, “how sweet would it be, If Clorinda would be my bride!”
She blusht at the motion; yet, after a pause, Said, “Yes, sir, and with all my heart.” “Then let us send for a priest,” said Robin Hood, “And be married before we do part.”
When dinner was ended, Sir Roger, the parson Of Dubbridge, was sent for in haste: He brought his mass-book, and he bade them take hands, And joyn’d them in marriage full fast.
And then, as bold Robin Hood and his sweet bride Went hand in hand to the green bower, The birds sung with pleasure in merry Sherwood, And ’t was a most joyful hour.
And when Robin came in the sight of the bower, “Where are my yeomen?” said he: And Little John answer’d, “Lo, yonder they stand, All under the green-wood tree.”
Then a garland they brought her, by two and by two, And plac’d them upon the bride’s head: The music struck up, and we all fell to dance, So the bride and bridegroom were wed.
Ettrick Forest is a fair forest, In it grows many a seemly tree; There’s hart and hind, and dae and rae, And of a’ wild beasts great plentie.
There’s a fair Castle, bigged wi’ lime and stane; O gin it stands not pleasantlie! In the fore front o’ that Castle fair, Twa unicorns are bra’ to see; There’s the picture of a Knight and a Lady bright, And the green hollin abune their bree.
There an Outlaw keeps five hundred men, He keeps a royal company; His merrymen a’ in ae livery clad, O’ the Lincoln green sae gay to see; He and his Lady in purple clad, O gin they live not royallie!