Spirit of Sherwood

Robin Hood is here again, and all his merry thieves
Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves
The dead are coming back again, the years are rolled away
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day

Our hearts are stout, our bows are good
Cull'd in the forest of Sherwood

One hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood
Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good
All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue
His fellow's winded horn not one of them but knew

And these will strike for England
To foil and spoil the tyrant
And man and maid be free
Beneath the merry greenwood tree
The spirit of Sherwood

Give me my bent bow
Set an arrow on the string
And where the arrow falls
There, please burry me
Burry me!

Robin Hood
The good
Spirit of Sherwood

Underneath this little stone
Lies Robert Earl of Huntingdon
No other archer was so good
And people called him Robin Hood

Here lie his primer and his beads
His bent bow, his arrows keen
His good sword and his holy cross
Now cast on flowers fresh and green

Robin Hood

Calling as he used to call
Faint and far away
In Sherwood, in Sherwood
About the break of day