List and hearken,
           gentlemen,
         That be of free-born blood,
           I shall you
              tell of a good yeoman,
         His name was Robin Hood.

    Robin was a proud outlaw,
           While as
             he walked on the ground.

    So courteous an outlaw as
         he was one Was
              never none else found.

    In the days
           of good King Harry
               the Second of England
         --he of the warring sons--
           there were certain forests
               in the north country
              set aside
                   for the King's hunting,
           and no man
            might shoot deer
                  therein under penalty of death.

    These forests
        were guarded
               by the King's Foresters,
           the chief of whom,
         in each wood,
           was no mean man
             but equal
                   in authority to the Sheriff
                 in his walled town,
         or even
               to my lord Bishop
             in his abbey.

    One of the greatest
           of royal preserves
        was Sherwood and Barnesdale forests
               near the two towns
                   of Nottingham and Barnesdale.

    Here for some years
        dwelt one Hugh Fitzooth
               as Head Forester,
           with his good wife
               and son Robert.

    The boy
        had been born
               in Lockesley town
         --in the year 1160,
               stern records say--
           and was often called Lockesley,
         or Rob of Lockesley.

    He was a comely,
           well-knit stripling,
         and as soon as
             he was strong enough
                  to walk his chief delight
                was to go
                       with his father
                           into the forest.

    As soon as his right
           arm received thew and sinew
         he learned
              to draw the long bow
                  and speed a true arrow.

    While on winter evenings
           his greatest joy
        was to hear his father
              tell of bold Will o'
                   the Green,
           the outlaw,
         who for many summers
               defied the King's Foresters and
                  feasted with his men
                       upon King's deer.

    And on
           other stormy days
               the boy learned
          to whittle
               out a straight shaft
                   for the long bow,
           and tip it
               with gray goose feathers.

    The fond mother sighed
         when she saw
               the boy's face
                   light up
                       at these woodland tales.

    She was of gentle birth,
           and had hoped
              to see her son famous
                   at court or abbey.

    She taught him
          to read and to write,
           to doff his cap
             without awkwardness
                  and to answer directly
                       and truthfully
                     both lord and peasant.

    But the boy,
           although he
            took kindly
                   to these lessons of breeding,
         was yet happiest
             when he
                had his beloved bow
                       in hand and strolled
                     at will,
           listening to the murmur
               of the trees.

    Two playmates
        had Rob
               in these gladsome early days.

    One was Will Gamewell,
           his father's brother's son,
         who lived at Gamewell Lodge,
           hard by Nottingham town.

    The other was Marian Fitzwalter,
           only child
               of the Earl of Huntingdon.

    The castle of Huntingdon
        could be
              seen from the top
                   of one
                 of the tall trees
                   in Sherwood;
        and on
               more than
                   one bright
                       day Rob's white signal
                   from this tree
              told Marian
             that he awaited her there:
        for you must know
             that Rob
                did not
                      visit her at the castle.

    His father and her father
        were enemies.

    Some people whispered
         that Hugh Fitzooth
            was the rightful Earl
                   of Huntingdon,
           but that
             he had been defrauded
                   out of his lands
                 by Fitzwalter,
         who had
              won the King's favor
                   by a crusade
                       to the Holy Land.

    But little
        cared Rob
              or Marian for this enmity,
           however it had arisen.

    They knew
         that the great green
          --wood was open to them,
           and that the wide,
         wide world
            was full
                   of the scent of flowers
                 and the song of birds.

    Days of youth
          speed all too swiftly,
           and troubled skies
              come all too soon.