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THE
BALLAD OF SINGING ROBIN
The
day will come, said singing Robin,
to
take the booty out of the sack
and
say goodbye to the holm and rowan:
we
shall have to give our plunder back.
But
how can we ever, Tuck complained,
say
goodbye to the risky wood
and
lose our trade with the faring barons?
We’d
lift our hats to a livelihood.
Oh,
the time isn’t yet, said dusty Robin.
Although
we steal, the traveller lends,
and
although we give, we’ll give enough:
but
the time will come to make amends.
For
you see, you see, said smiling Robin,
while
the wood is ravelled with traveller’s gold
there
is plenty of scope for our light fingers:
but
the day will come when our tale is told.
There
will always be stories, John declared,
for
us to rifle from the stringent shire!
There
will never be end enough to write
Grave
on the deeds of a greenwood liar!
Always
and never, said singing Robin,
are
the pieces of gold that plump your sack;
but
the end will come of pilgrim and thief:
we’ll
take such words and give them back.
Alan
Marshfield
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