The Song of Robin Hood and His Huntsmen

Now wend we together, my merry men all,
Unto the forest side-a:
And there to strike a buck or a doe
Let our cunning all be tried-a.

Then go we merrily, merrily on,
To the greenwood to take our stand,
Where we will lie in wait for our game,
With our bent bows all in our hand.

What life is there like to Robin Hood?

It is so pleasant a thing-a:
In merry Sherwood he spends his days
As pleasantly as a king-a.

No man may compare with Robin Hood,
With Robin Hood, Scathlock and John:
Their like was never, and never will be,
If in case that they were gone.

They will not away from merry Sherwood
In any place else to dwell;
For there is neither city nor town
That likes them half so well.

Our lives are wholly given to hunt,
And haunt the merry green wood,
Where our best service is daily spent
For our master Robin Hood.