In green Chetwood was Scarlock stood,
A bowman fine and gay!
And by him scores of boys in hoods,
Merry men so they say.
For a fortnight there was no sport,
Their mugs were bare and dry!
They went for stranger to consort,
And baubles to away.
They watched the road, it was their task,
Returned ill-gotten gains!
They were good folk and in this basked,
In this were always fain!
A score hid hind a prickly bush,
Over the road meand’ring,
Till came poor maid and man ahushed,
Sorrowfully wallowing.
Then bold Billy the Redbreast came,
But he ne'er bent his bow,
A score of boys after him made,
And they all bowed so low.
'O, who are you?' the man had said,
'Merry Men,' said the boys.
'We are good men, be not afeared,'
'We are no robber noise.'
The man did nod, and bowed so low,
‘My name is Harry Twigs,’
‘My wife and I were robbed in Combe,’
‘Of auroch and our rings.’
And so said he ‘I am your man,’
‘If you will do this thing,”
‘I will serve as long as I stand,’
‘And we will aid with vim.’
Now the bold boys, they all scowled low,
They grabbed their sticks and stones,
And asked the man what way was home,
Those robbers were now foes.
They chased the word of Harry Twigs,
And brigand shield espied,
They donned their hoods upon their heads,
And climbed the trees so high.
Then called aloud a bold club-man,
‘We are the Merry Men!’
He was called Much and climbed he higher,
And then came robbers ten.
Their tall chief he was covered whole,
In a boar’s bristly hide,
Said blessed with magic of the old,
But this they did not heed.
The fighter leaped, and some did same,
They called and struck the chief!
And a score of arrows, they did rain,
And blood did stain the leaves!
But of their loot nothing was found,
But a worn map cross marked!
They found a camp upon a mound,
And by then it was dark.
Much had took on the chieftain’s hide,
And walked up to their fire!
And from afar brigands espied,
Their own robbers admired!
They were too close before ruse known,
The Merry Men struck them down!
The one called Martie kneeled alone,
and opened their chest so proud!
There were trinkets and golden rings,
And twenty silver pennies!
But they made count of Harry’s things,
His auroch nearby lied.
There was an auroch and golden rings,
To Harry they swift returned!
And under the leaves he quickly pledged,
Himself to Scarlock bound.
But first they made off to an inn,
And made their mugs not dry!
They quickly tilted up their chins,
Before they left that night.
And so they returned to merry wood,
Under the leaves so green!
And at their camp was Harry Twigs stood,
Whose wife blushed like a queen.
