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of Robin Hood
By Howard Pyle
SHE
‘Now get thee away, young man so fine;
Now get thee away, I say;
For my true love shall never be thine,
And so thou hadst better not stay.
Thou art not a fine enough lad for me,
So I’ll wait till a better young man I see.
For it’s hark! hark! hark!
To the winged lark,
And it’s hark to the cooing dove!
And the bright daffodil
Groweth down by the rill,
Yet never I’ll be thy love.
HE
‘Then straight will I seek for another fair she,
For many a maid can be found,
And as thou wilt never have aught of me,
By thee will I never be bound.
For never is a blossom in the field so rare,
But others are found that are just as fair.
So it’s hark! hark! hark!
SHE
‘Young man, turn not so very quick away
Another fair lass to find.
Methinks I have spoken in haste today,
Nor have I made up my mind,
So they sang together, for the stout Friar did not seem to
have heard Robin’s laughter, neither did he seem to know