Robin, Lend to Me Thy Bow

NOW, Robin, lend to me thy bow,

  Sweet Robin, lend to me thy bow;

For I must now a hunting with my lady go,

  With my sweet lady go.

And whither will thy lady go?

  Sweet Wilkin, tell it unto me;

And thou shalt have my hawk, my hound, and eke my bow,

  To wait on thy ladye.

My lady will to Uppingham,

  To Uppingham, forsooth, will she;

And I myself appointed for to be the man

  To wait on my ladye.

Adieu, good Wilkin, all beshrewd,

  Thy hunting nothing pleaseth me;

But yet beware thy babbling hounds stray not abroad,

  For angering of thy ladye.

My hounds shall be led in the line,

  So well I can assure it thee;

Unless by view of strain some pursue I may find,

  To please my sweet ladye.

With that the lady she came in,

  And willed them all for to agree;

For honest hunting never was accounted sin,

  Nor never shall for me.