The book of British ballads . J. Franklin del. G. Dalzeil ac. 326 And John is gone to Barnesdale:The gates he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale,Great heaviness there hee hadd,. For he found tow of his owne fellowesWere slaine both in a slade. And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote Fast over stocke and stone,For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone. < One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John, With Christ his might and mayne; < He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne. Then John bent up his long bende-bow, And fetteled him to shoo
The book of British ballads . J. Franklin del. G. Dalzeil ac. 326 And John is gone to Barnesdale:The gates he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale,Great heaviness there hee hadd,. For he found tow of his owne fellowesWere slaine both in a slade. And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote Fast over stocke and stone,For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone. < One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John, With Christ his might and mayne; < He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne. Then John bent up his long bende-bow, And fetteled him to shoote :The bow was made of a tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,That ere thou grew on a tree ; For now this day thou art my bale,My boote when thou shold bee. His shoote it was but loosely shott,Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine ; For itt mett one of the sheriffes men,Good William a Trent was slaine. It had bene better of William a TrentTo have bene abed with sorrowe, Than to be that day in the green wood sladeTo meet with Little Johns arrowe. But as it is said, when men be mett,Fyve can doe more than three, The sheriife hath taken Little J
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