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In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and read more
In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and Little John,
Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.
Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.
Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.
But that's another story.
But that's another story.
I don't ever want anything to come in the way of me truthfully telling a story.rn
I don't ever want anything to come in the way of me truthfully telling a story.rn
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
At this point therefore let us begin our narrative, without
adding any more to what has already been said; read more
At this point therefore let us begin our narrative, without
adding any more to what has already been said; for it would be
foolish to lengthen the preface while cutting short the history
itself.
But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more
But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
In vain would I seek to discover
Why sad and mournful am I,
My thoughts without ceasing read more
In vain would I seek to discover
Why sad and mournful am I,
My thoughts without ceasing brood over
A tale of the time gone by.
[Ger., Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten,
Dass ich so traurig bin:
Ein marchen aus alten Zeiten
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.]
