"straight" news items, but have been twisted by his imagination，
It befell upon a Wednesday, The sheriff a-hunting was gone, And Little John lay in his bed, And was forgot at home. Therefore he was fast-ing Till it was past the none. "Good sir Steward, I pray thee, Give me to dine," said Little John; "It is too long for Greenleaf, Fast-ing so long to be; Therefore I pray thee, stew-ard, My dinner give thou me!"
"Shalt thou never eat ne drink," said the stew-ard, "Till my lord be come to town."
"I make mine avow," said Little John, "I had liever to crack thy crown!"
The butler was full uncurteys, There he stood on floor, He stert to the buttery, And shut fast the door. Little John gave the butler such a stroke His back yede nigh in two, Though he lived an hundred winter, The worse he should-e go. He spurned the door with his foot, It went up well and fine, And there he made a large liveray Both of ale and wine. "Sith ye will not dine," said Little John, "I shall give you to drink, And though ye live an hundred winter, On Little John ye shall think!" Little John ate, and Little John drank, The whil-e that he would. The sheriff had in his kitchen a cook, A stout man and a bold.
"I make mine avow to God," said the cook, "Thou art a shrewd-e hind, In an household to dwell, For to ask thus to dine." And there he lent Little John, Good strok-es three.
"I make mine avow," said Little John, "These strok-es liketh well me. Thou art a bold man and an hardy, And so thinketh me; And ere I pass from this place, Assayed better shalt thou be."
Little John drew a good sword, The cook took another in hand; They thought nothing for to flee, But stiffly for to stand. There they fought sor-e together, Two mile way and more, Might neither other harm don, The mountenance of an hour. "I make mine avow," said Little John, "And by my true lewt-e, Thou art one of the best swordmen That ever yet saw I me. Couldest thou shoot as well in a bow, To green wood thou shouldest with me, And two times in the year thy clothing I-changed should-e be; And every year of Robin Hood Twent-y mark to thy fee."
"Put up thy sword," said the cook, "And fellows will we be."
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