She’s ta’en the bugle in her hand,
    And blawn baith loud and shrill;
  Sweet William started at the sound,
    And cam her quickly till.

  O up and starts him, Brown Robin,
    And swore by Our Ladye,
  “No man shall cum into this hour,
    “But first maun fight wi’ me.”

  O they hae fought the wood within,
    Till the sun was going down;
  And drops o’ blood, frae Rose the Red,
    Came pouring to the ground.

  She leant her back against an aik,
    Said—­“Robin, let me be: 
  “For it is a ladye, bred and born,
    “That has fought this day wi’ thee.”

  O seven foot he started back. 
    Cried—­“Alas and woe is me! 
  “For I wished never, in all my life,
    “A woman’s bluid to see: 

  “And that all for the knightly vow
    “I swore to Our Ladye;
  “But mair for the sake o’ ae fair maid,
    “Whose name was White Lilly.”

  Then out and spake her, Rouge the Rounde,
    And leugh right heartilie,
  “She has been wi’ you this year and mair,
    “Though ye wistna it was she.”

  Now word has gane through all the land,
    Before a month was gane,
  That a forester’s page, in gude grene-wood,
    Had borne a bonny son.

  The marvel gaed to the king’s court,
    And to the king himsell;
  “Now, by my fay,” the king did say,
    “The like was never heard tell!”

  Then out and spake him, Bauld Arthur,
    And laugh’d right loud and hie—­
  “I trow some may has plaid the lown,[A]
    “And fled her ain countrie.”

  “Bring me my steid!” the king can say;
    “My bow and arrows keen;
  “And I’ll gae hunt in yonder wood,
    “And see what’s to be seen.”

  “Gin it please your grace,” quo’ Bauld Arthur,
    “My liege, I’ll gang you wi’;
  “And see gin I can meet a bonny page,
    “That’s stray’d awa frae me.”

  And they hae chaced in gude grene-wood,
    The buck but and the rae,
  Till they drew near Brown Robin’s hour,
    About the close o’ day.

  Then out and spake the king himsell,
   Says—­“Arthur, look and see,
  “Gin you be not your favourite page,
   “That leans against yon tree.”

  O Arthur’s ta’en a bugle-horn,
   And blawn a blast sae shrill;
  Sweet Willie started to her feet,
   And ran him quickly till.

  “O wanted ye your meat, Willie,
   “Or wanted ye your fee? 
  “Or gat ye e’er an angry word,
   “That ye ran awa frae me?”

  “I wanted nought, my master dear;
   “To me ye aye was good: 
  “I cam to see my ae brother,
   “That wons in this grene-wood.”

  Then out bespake the king again,—­
   “My boy, now tell to me,
  “Who dwells into yon bigly bour,
   “Beneath yon green aik tree?”

  “O pardon me,” said Sweet Willy;
    “My liege I dare na tell;
  “And gang na near yon outlaw’s bour,
    “For fear they suld you kill.”