Francis James Child

“ The screffes men schot foll fast,
As archares that weren godde;
There cam non ner ney the marke
Bey halffe a god archares bowe.
Stell then stod the prowde potter,
Thos than seyde he;
And y had a bow, be the rode,
On schot scholde yow se.
'Thow schall haffe a bow,' seyde the screffe,
'The best that thow well cheys of thre;
Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge,
Asay schall thow be.'
The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey
Affter bowhes to weynde ”

“ Roben set on a stryng.
'Now schall y wet and thow be god,
And polle het op to they nere;'
'So god me helpe,' seyde the prowde potter,
'THys ys bot rygy+ot weke gere.'
To a quequer Roben went,
A god bolt owthe he toke;
So ney on to the marke he went,
He fayled not a fothe.
All they schot abowthe agen,
The screffes men and he;
Off the marke he welde not fayle,
He cleffed the preke on thre.
The screffes men thowt gret schame
The potter the mastry wan;
The screff lowe and made god game,
And seyde, Potter, thow art a man.
. . . .
. . . . ”

“ At Notynggam when we were,
Thow scholde not com yn feyre forest
Of all thes thowsande eyre.'
'That wot y well,' seyde Roben,
'Y thanke God that ye be here;
Thereffore schall ye leffe yowre hors with hos,
And all yowre hother gere.'
'That fend I Godys forbod,' kod the screffe,
'So to lese mey godde;
. . . .
. . .
'Hether ye cam on hors foll hey,
And hom schall ye go on fote;
And gret well they weyffe at home,
The woman ys foll godde.
schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het ambellet be mey fey,
. . . .
. . .
schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het hambellet as the weynde ”