"
Togeder then went thes two yemen,
Het was a god seyt to se;
Therof low Robyn hes men,
Ther they stod onder a tre.
Leytell John to hes felowhes seyde,
"Yend potter welle steffeley stonde:"
The potter, with an acward stroke,
Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde;
And ar Roben meyt get hem agen
Hes bokeler at hes fette,
The potter yn the neke hem toke,
To the gronde sone he yede.
That saw Roben hes men,
As they stode ender a bow;
"Let us helpe owr master," seyed Lytell John,
"Yonder potter els well hem sclo."
Thes yemen went with a breyde,
To ther master they cam.
Leytell John to hes master seyde,
"He haet the wager won?
"Schall y haff yowr forty shillings," seyde Lytel John,
"Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?"
"Yeff they wer a hundred," seyde Roben,
"Y feythe, they ben all theyne."
"Het ys fol leytell cortesey," seyde the potter,
"As y haffe harde weyse men saye,
Yeff a por yeman com drywyng ower the wey,
To let hem of hes gorney."
"Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt," seyde Roben,
"Thow seys god yemenrey;
And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day,
Thow schalt never be let for me.
"Y well prey the, god potter,
A felischepe well thow haffe?
Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne;
Y well go to Notynggam."
"Y grant therto," seyde the potter,
"Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode;
But thow can sell mey pottes well,
Come ayen as thow yode."
"Nay, be mey trowt," seyde Roben,
"And then y bescro mey hede
Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen,
And eney weyffe well hem chepe.
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