"
Robin evidently did not care to sink, so he swam to a willow bush and,
gaining dry land, took one of his best arrows and shot at the friar. The
arrow glanced off the monk's steel armour, and he invited Robin to shoot
on, which he did, but with no greater success. Then they took their
swords and "fought with might and maine":
From ten o' th' clock that very day
Till four i' th' afternoon.
Then Robin came to his knee
Of the fryer to beg a boone.
"A boone, a boone, thou curtail fryer,
I beg it on my knee;
Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth
And to blow blastes three."
The friar consented contemptuously, for he had got the better of the
fight; so Robin blew his "blastes three," and presently fifty of his
yeomen made their appearance. It was now the friar's turn to ask a
favour.
"A boone, a boone," said the curtail fryer,
"The like I gave to thee:
Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth
And to whute whues three."
and as Robin readily agreed to this, he sounded his "whues three," and
immediately--
Halfe a hundred good band-dogs
Came running o'er the lee.
"Here's for every man a dog
And I myself for thee.
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