Classic Poem

They toke togyder theyr counsell
Robyn Hode for to sle,
And how they myght best do that dede
His banis for to be.

Than bespake good Robyn
In place where as he stode:
To morow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly
Craftely to be leten blode.

Syr Roger of Donkestere
By the pryoresse he lay,
And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode
Through theyr false playe.

Cryst haue mercy on his soule
That dyed on the rode;
For he was a good outlawe
And dyde pore men moch god[e].