|Robert Jones (1565-1616)|
In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood,
An archer great, none greater,
His bow and shafts were sure and good,
Yet Cupidís were much better.
Robin could shoot at many a hart and miss;
Cupid at first could hit a heart of his.
Hey! jolly Robin, Ho! jolly Rogin,
Hey! jolly Robin Hood!
Love finds out me
As well as thee
To follow me to the green wood.
A noble thief was Robin Hood,
Wise was he could deceive him;
Yet Marian in his bravest mood
Could of his heart bereave him.
No greater thief lies hidden under skies
Than Beauty closely lodged in womenís eyes.
An outlaw was this Robin Hood,
His life free and unruly;
Yet to fair Marian bound he stood,
And loveís debt paid her duly.
Whom curb of strictest law could not hold in,
Love with obeyedness and a wink could win.
Now wend we home, stout Robin Hood,
Leave we the woods behing us.
Love passions must not be with-stood,
Love evíry-where will find us.
I lived in field and town and so did he :
I got me to the woods; Love followed me.