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There was many an out horne in Carliel blowen,

And the belles bacward dyd ryng, Many a woman fayde, Alas!

And many theyr handes dyd wryng.


The mayre

of Carleile forth was com, Wyth hym a ful great route: These yemen dred hym full fore,

Of theyr lyves they stode in doute.

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The mayre came armed a full great pace,

With a pollaxe in hys hande; Many a strong man wyth him was,

There in that stowre to stande.


The mayre smot at Cloudellè with his bil,

Hys bucler he braft in two,
Full many a yeman with great evyll,

Alas! they cryed for wo.
Kepe we the gates fast, they bad,

That these traytours therout not go.


But al for nought was that the wrought,

For so fast they downe were layde,
Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought,

Were gotten without, abraide.

Have here your keys, fayd Adam Bel,

Myne office I here forsake,



And yf you do by my counsell

A new porter do ye make.

He threw theyr keys at theyr heads,

And bad them well to thryve, And all that letteth any good yeman

To come and comfort his wyfe.


Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod,

And lyghtly, as lefe on lynde,
The lough and be mery in theyr mode,

Theyr foes were ferr behynd.


And when they came to Englyshe wode,

Under the trusty tre,
There they found bowes full good,

And arrowes full great plentye.


So God me help, fayd Adam Bell,

And Clym of the Clough so fre, I would we were in mery Carleile,

Before that fayre meynè.

They set them downe, and made good chere,

And eate and dranke full well.
A second fyt of the wightye yeomen.

Another I wyll you tell.



L 2
Ver. 175. merry green wood. P.

V'er, 19. I had wende. P.G. Per. 20. never had se. P.C.



S they fat in Englyshe wood,

Under the green-wode tre,
They thought they herd a woman wepe,

But her they mought not fe.

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Sore then fyghed the fayre Alyce :

That ever I sawe thys day! For nowe is my

dere husband slayne: Alas! and wel-a-way !


Myght I have spoke with hys dere brethren,

Or with eyther of them twayne, To shew to them what him befell,

My hart were out of payne:

Cloudellè walked a lytle beside,

Lookt under the grene wood linde,
He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three,

Full wo in harte and mynde.

Welcome, wyfe, then fayde Wyllyam,

Under this trusti tre :
I wende yesterday, by swete faynt John,

Thou Shulde me never have se.


« New

« Now well is me that ye be here,

My harte is out of wo.”
Dame, he fayde, be mery and glad,

And thanke my brethren two.

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Herof to speake, said Adam Bell,

I-wis it is no bote :
The meate, that we must supp withall,

It runneth yet fast on fote,

Then went they downe into a launde,

These noble archares thre;
Eche of them slew a hart of greece,

The best that they cold se,


Have here the best, Alyce my wyfe,

Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudellye ; By cause ye so bouldly stode by me

When I was llayne full nye.


Then went they to suppère

Wyth suche meate as they had, And thanked God of ther fortune :

They were both mery and glad.

And when they had fupped well,

Certayne wythouten lease,
Cloudellè fayd, we wyll to our kyng?

To get us a charter of peace.

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Alyce Thal be at our sojournyng

In a nunery here befyde,
My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,

And there they shall abyde.


Myne eldest fon shall go wyth me,

For hym have I no care : And he shall breng you worde

agayn, How that we do fare.

Thus be these yemen to London gone,

As fast as they myght he,
Tyll they came to the kynge's pallàce,

Where they woulde nedes be.


And whan they came to the kyngès courte,

Unto the pallace gate,
Of no man wold they ake no leave,

But boldly went in therat.


They preced prestly into the hall,

Of no man had they dreade:
The porter came after, and dyd them call,

And with them gan to chyde.

The usher fayde, Yemen, what would ye have? 6s

I pray you tell to me:
You myght thus make offycers fhent:
Good fyrs, of whence be ye?


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