Robin the Quick

It was said he stole mightly from the rich and carried away their treasures, yet was never caught. He would go to an inn and meet a traveling mechant or gentlemen and drink with him. Even though he had pillaged a man's pockets, he was never recognized. Upon departing, Robin would turn and say, "Farewell, Sir! Be glad you shared a cup with me--for I am Robin the Quick, the famous thief," or "I am that good fellow, Robin the Thief."

He would depart while the place was in an uproar. Nobody could catch him or lay hands on him. People said when they followed him outside, he had vanished.

Robin, that good fellow, robbed very rich people and gave a great deal to the poor. Yet, whenever they met him they did not recognise him at any time, for he disguised himself and somehow changed his face and form continually. Some said he was a wizard. Some said he was a devil. At last, it was generally said that he was most certainly a devil, or some merry spirit, known as Robin Goodfellow.

At last as mortal men must, he lay dying, but he could not die. He groaned and raved and implored those present to take something from him, but none would accept it because he they feared he had some terrible burden upon his soul.

At last a woman, most wise, put two brooms under Robin's sickbed, and so he breathed his last and died. He was not burried in consecrated soil, but they did as he bid and burried him where his arrow fell, deep in the forrest.

Yet his spirit could not sleep in the garden of death, for some tresure left behind. Robin can still be found in the Greenwood--or some say so. Who would conjure his spirit? Verily, Robin is a spirit whose nature is good, because of his acts of charity in life, but he is also a trickster.

"In the woods in such a place, there stands an oak-tree--very old; buried one yard's depth thou wilt find a treasure, it is in a old boot and in an earthen pot. And when thou art rich and free do not forget the poor!"

--2013, Myth Woodling

A SONG OF SHERWOOD

Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake? Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake; Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn, Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn. Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves, Calling as he used to call, faint and far away, In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June: All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon; Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst. Merry, merry England is waking as of old, With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold: For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. Love is in the greenwood building him a house Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs; Love it in the greenwood: dawn is in the skies; And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes. Hark! The dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep: Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep? Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay, In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold, Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould, Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red, And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed. Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together With quarter-staff and drinking-can and grey goose-feather; The dead are coming back again; the years are rolled away In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows; All the heart of England hid in every rose Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap, Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep? Hark, the voice of England wakes him as of old And, shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold, Bugles in the greenwood echo from the steep, Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep? Where the deer are gliding down the shadowy glen All across the glades of fern he calls his merry men-- Doublets of the Lincoln green glancing through the May, In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day-- Calls them and they answer: from aisles of oak and ash Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash; The ferns begin to flutter and the flowers begin to fly; And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by. Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves Answer as the bugle-note shivers through the leaves: Calling as he used to call, faint and far away, In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. --Alfred Noyes (1880-1959) Robin Hood's Last Words: "Now raise me on my dying bed, Bring here my trusty bow, And ere I join the silent dead, My arm that spot shall show."

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