Lyrics: Hildegard von Blingin’
Melody: Foster the People
Listen: https://youtu.be/cRIfsFefatg
Robert hath a swift hand.
He doth gaze upon the fyrd, and he maketh a plan.
And he hath a jaunty cap
Perched upon his head, he is a longbowman.
He did find an old bow of yew
And a quiver of arrows in his father’s chest
Wherefore I cannot say.
But he cometh for thee, yea he cometh for thee.
||: All ye bully-rooks with your buskin boots,
Best ye go, best ye go,
Outrun my bow.
All ye bully-rooks with your buskin boots,
Best ye go, best ye go, faster than mine arrow. :||
Father worketh all day
And he cometh home late, yea he cometh home late.
Mayhaps he bringeth me a gift,
For stew is in the pot, though it doth taste of grit.
I have waited e’re long.
Now mine eye is quick and mine arm is strong.
I reason with my crooked cap
And say, “Thou art an artless, greasy tallow-catch.” Yea
||: All ye bully-rooks with your buskin boots,
Best ye go, best ye go,
Outrun my bow.
All ye bully-rooks with your buskin boots,
Best ye go, best ye go, faster than mine arrow. :||