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Now, twenty years old, I come out and I go back to Greenwich Village. Now, of course, I'm a wealthy man.

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Luna, Come Out and Play

Luna, come out and play;
We’ll do everything like yesterday,
We’ll bike ride down twisting streets
Of the neighborhood.
I would always let you take the lead
In order to gaze at your shimmering ponytail.
Every slight bounce and charming sway
Felt like love.
I often wondered then
If we were not more than best friends?

In July, we would drink
Your mother’s lemonade
And get sun burnt by the pool;
I had to laugh at your kid brother
Who considered me such a fool
For never letting you out of my sight.

Meet me at the library,
We’ll sit out front on the soft grass.
Wear your summer shorts and sandals.
I don’t care who’s watching,
I’ll kiss your ankles until Im high and dreaming.
Then I’ll walk you home;
And if you let me in,
We’ll play Sinatra,
I’ll lose my hands in your hair.
As we embrace, I’ll pull your hair
Back into that ponytail,
And I swear, we’ll be sixteen again.

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Twenty year old friendship

Twenty year old friendship

It was this month
Twenty years ago
I came across you
And took you with me
Since then
You are my conscious keeper
I looked at you
For anything and every thing
I look at you
As soon I wake up
I look at you
As I take my breakfast
I look at you
As I leave for office
Whenever there are challenges
I look at you
And you always give me a breather
And you used to say
There is time still
When I look at you in the event
Of an unfavourable situation
You smile with your hands spread
And say
You should have done something about this
Much earlier
Whenever I am in a rush
Whether it is to attend a meeting
Or to catch a flight, train or bus
I look at you
You will say either there is time still
Or you should have left earlier
It is difficult to say
As to when I have not consulted you
Every now and then
I look at you
And you never failed me
You were prompt although
To give me the help I need
I will not say you kept me on my toes
But, yes, you helped me keep my times
Any event, joyful or otherwise
As soon as it occurred
I would look at you
You kept me telling indirectly
That things keep pace with time
And change
Your message was always
That time is the best healer
And is the best in sorting issues
As you know time puts things
At their right place
For all these I have done nothing to you
But to feed you
With a small disc
This feed is good enough for you
To keep yourself performing
For months
You might have fallen sick
Thrice in these twenty years
Never once I spent
More than the consultation fee, which I pay
To my medical practitioner
I see of late
You are running slow
Because of this long twenty years’ running
May be, soon I will stop
Consulting you
And I am planning to put you to rest
My dear, twenty years old Titan watch

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So its been twenty years

So it’s been twenty years,
Annelize, since we wed
and a time that no man
could ever forget.

Twenty years since
a young boy and girl
said high vows
before the world and God,
that couldn’t even survive a full year.

What lightning forked between us
to shatter that which once was,
what scourge smote
from what hell
and burned and scorched us apart,
to this very day I do not know
and a time came
that you had to go to another.

Still feelings remain
and flames of lust
have the possibility
to burn high,
yet the truth remains
that I cannot trust you
ever again.

Even if our stars are still the same,
you have the image
set to that of Helen
and all of your heart
reaches out to me,
never ever will that romance
be able to endure.

Time still tell its truth
of a love that once was
and forever are gone
and deceit burnt the beauty and thrill away
and not even a great sage,
can turn those ashes
back to what it once was.

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I Was 10 Years Old

I was 10 years old at that time and,
It occurred to me;
But today,
I am a grown up person with much experiences!
However, deadly things are done everywhere today.

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Come Out & Play

Like the latest fashion
Like a spreading disease
The kids are strappin on their way to the classroom
Getting weapons with the greatest of ease
The gangs stake their own campus locale
And if they catch you slippin then its all over pal
If one guys colors and the others dont mix
Theyre gonna bash it up
Hey - man you talkin back to me ?
Take him out
You gotta keepem separated
Hey - man you disrespecting
Take him out
You gotta keepem separated
Hey they dont pay no mind
If youre under 18 you wont be doing ant time
Hey come out and play
By the time you hear the siren
Its already too late
One goes to the morgue and the other to jail
One guys wasted and the others a waste
It goes down the same as the thousand before
No ones getting smarter
No ones learning the score
Your never ending spree of death and violence and hate
Is gonna tie your own rope

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To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, the Author Suppos'd Forty

Lords, knights, and squires, the num'rous band,
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summon'd by her high command,
To show their passions by their letters.

My pen amongst the rest I took,
Lest those bright eyes that cannot read
Should dart their kindling fires, and look
The pow'r they have to be obey'd.

Nor quality, nor reputation,
Forbid me yet my flame to tell,
Dear Five-years-old befriends my passion,
And I may write till she can spell.

For while she makes her silk-worms beds
With all the tender things I swear;
Whilst all the house my passion reads,
In papers round her baby's hair;

She may receive and own my flame,
For though the strictest prudes should know it,
She'll pass for a most virtuous dame,
And I for an unhappy poet.

Then too, alas! when she shall tear
The lines some younger rival sends;
She'll give me leave to write, I fear,
And we shall still continue friends.

For as our different ages move,
'Tis so ordain'd (would Fate but mend it)
That I shall be past making love,
When she begins to comprehend it.

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Twenty Years

There are twenty years to go
Twenty ways to know
Who'll wear
Who'll wear the hat
There are twenty years to go
The best of all I hope
Enjoy the ride
The medicine show
Thems the breaks
For we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
There are twenty years to go
The faithful and the low
The best of starts, the broken heart, the stone
There are twenty years to go
The punch-drunk and the blow
The worst of starts, the mercy part, the foam
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
But it's you I take cos you're the truth, not I
There are twenty years to go
A golden age I know
But all will pass and end too fast you know
There are twenty years to go
And many friends I hope
Though some may hold the rose
Some hold the rope
That's the end - and that's the start of it
That's the whole - and that's the part of it
That's the high - and that's the heart of it
That's the long - and that's the short of it
That's the best - and that's the test in it
That's the doubt - the doubt, the trust in it
That's the sight - and that's the sound of it
That's the gift - and that's the trick in it
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I

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The Magic of Numbers

The Magic of Numbers—1

How strange it was to hear the furniture being moved around in the apartment upstairs!
I was twenty-six, and you were twenty-two.


The Magic of Numbers—2

You asked me if I wanted to run, but I said no and walked on.
I was nineteen, and you were seven.


The Magic of Numbers—3

Yes, but does X really like us?
We were both twenty-seven.


The Magic of Numbers—4

You look like Jerry Lewis (1950).


The Magic of Numbers—5

Grandfather and grandmother want you to go over to their house for dinner.
They were sixty-nine, and I was two and a half.


The Magic of Numbers—6

One day when I was twenty-nine years old I met you and nothing happened.


The Magic of Numbers—7

No, of course it wasn’t I who came to the library!
Brown eyes, flushed cheeks, brown hair. I was twenty-nine, and you were sixteen.


The Magic of Numbers—8

After we made love one night in Rockport I went outside and kissed the road
I felt so carried away. I was twenty-three, and you were nineteen.


The Magic of Numbers—9

I was twenty-nine, and so were you. We had a very passionate time.
Everything I read turned into a story about you and me, and everything I did was turned into a poem.


“The Magic of Numbers” from The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Copyright © 2006 by Kenneth Koch.

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18 Years Old

Tomorrow I'm
18 years old
I been waiting for this all my life
I get to do what I want and now Im free
Live where I want
Do what I never done before
Date who I want to
Chase after my dream
Now Im young adult and all grown up
I have to be responbility and make right choice
I start getting and understand life
Im matured young lady
If I get in trouble now
I will go to jail which I will never do
Im getting ready to be
18 years old
One day I'm going out in this world and face it’s
There is no hiding
I can’t believe this day come already
I been waiting for this day to come
I get to make my own choices now
Im finally
18 years old

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4 Years Old

He started saying out the letters at about 4 years old,
And he started counting the numbers as well;
For he is guided by the muse of love,
And he can now write and spell out his name!
Oh joy and peace,
This is what we've been waiting for since all these years.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It All Will Come Out Right

Whatever is a cruel wrong,
Whatever is unjust,
The honest years that speed along
Will trample in the dust.
In restless youth I railed at fate
With all my puny might,
But now I know if I but wait
It all will come out right.

Though Vice may don the judge’s gown
And play the censors’ part,
And Fact be cowed by Falsehood’s frown
And Nature ruled by art;
Though Labour toils through blinding tears
And idle Wealth is might,
I know that the honest, earnest years
Will bring it all out right.

Though poor and loveless creeds may pass
For pure religion’s gold;
Though ignorance may rule the mass
While truth meets glances cold,
I know a law, complete, sublime,
Controls us with its might,
And in God’s own appointed time
It all will come out right.

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Twenty Years Ago

It's been a long time since I walked
Through this old town
But oh how the memories start to flow
And there's the old movie house
They finally closed it down
You could find me there every Friday night
Twenty years ago.
I worked the counter at the drugstore down the street
But nobody's left there I would know
On Saturday mornings that's where
All my friends would meet
You'd be surprised to know what a dime would buy
Twenty years ago.
All my memories from those days come gather round me
What I'd give if they could take me back in time
It almost seems like yesterday
Where do the good times go?
Life was so much easier twenty years ago.
I guess I should stop by Mr. Johnson's hardware store
His only son was my friend Joe
But he joined the army back in 1964
How could we know he would never come back
Twenty years ago...

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Do I Have To Come Right Out And Say It?

Do I have to come right out
and say it,
Tell you that you look so fine?
Do I have to come right out
and ask you to be mine?
If it was a game I could play it,
Trying to make it
but I'm losing time
I got to bring you in,
you're overworking my mind.
Indecision is crowding me,
I have no room to spare
And I can't believe she cared
Like a dream she has taken me
And now I don't know where
And a part of me is scared
The part of me I shared
Once before.
Do I have to come right out
and say it,
Tell you that you look so fine?
Do I have to come right out
and ask you to be mine?
Indecision is crowding me,
I have no room to spare
And I can't believe she cared
Like a dream she has taken me
And now I don't know where
And a part of me is scared
The part of me I shared
Once before.
Do I have to come right out
and say it, girl
Tell you that you look so fine?
Do I have to come right out
and ask you to be mine?
If it was a game I could play it,
Trying to make it
but I'm losing time
I got to bring you in,
you're overworking my mind.
Do I have to come right out
and say it, girl
Tell you that you look so fine?

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Forty Years Old

The tidings of your melancholy loss,
And received at the other hand to crown your glory;
But ten times more of needful things like the muse of your love,
For i love you with my sincere heart.
Life is like the natural tune coming out from my radio,
And you are mine and i am yours;
For i will repay all that you've lost in this town,
So be confident with your thoughts towards me.
Bound to me only by the links of this love is your muse,
Because you are my daily joy as compared to a common man's life;
But the hiding places beyond the seas are with cheerfulness!
And i will bear your memory with me always.
It was like the love letters full of wondrous news,
And of the forty years old love songs to boast your muse;
But both of us will live to see a better day on this love.
Stong and hale,
Weak and pale,
And like a fairly tale;
But lay now the corner stone with a joyful heart!
And like a leisure hour out of sight,
But we will be pure as the naked heavens one day.
There is comfort in the strength of love,
And of the tidings of your melancholy loss;
But ten time more of needful things like the muse of your love.

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Four Years Old

Hey
Why'd you wake me from my nap?
I'm not in the mood
To play your games
Or sit on your lap

You
Where's my Yankees drinking glass?
I want some juice
And I want it now
So you better move your ass
And feel bad for me
'Cuz I'm just getting over a cold

I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Somebody better tie my shoes!

Now
I run down the hall
I scream and I yell
And I cry 'cuz I fell
Bring the rubbing alcohol

Outside
I get mud on my shoe
I come back in the house
I get it on the rug
The cleanging's up to you
And I won't take a bath
Unless you make me Spaghetti-O's

I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Mommy reads to me at night
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Well
I can't have a job
And I can't go to school
If no grownups are around
I can't go near the pool
I'm not alowed to climb
My neighbor's apple tree
I'm not allowed to sit
Too close to the TV
I don't know how to drive
And I don't know how to spell
But if I hear my brother cursing
I do know how to tell
'Cuz he made me eat some bread
That was covered in mold

I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I just threw up on my grandmother

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I Walked Last Night In A District I Lived In For Almost Twenty Years

I WALKED LAST NIGHT IN A DISTRICT I LIVED IN FOR ALMOST TWENTY YEARS

I walked last night in a district I lived in for almost twenty years
I came back after being away for a time
To visit an old and ailing friend
The streets were empty and lonely as they often were then-
I thought for the first time I understood how lonely the district itself is-
A lonely district’
I wondered how I managed to live there all those years
And how anyone still manages to live there-
I looked up at the sky and wrote in my mind a small poem of a kind I wrote many of in my years there
I remembered teachers and friends who had lived there
No longer of this district or any district on earth
I wondered how life goes and how from so many years so much life has been lived without having any place in my memory
I felt as empty inside as the district without
I did not have to wait long for the bus
And relieved inside it I put my heart to home
So many years had been lived there
I remembered taking my small children to the playground there
Now they thank G-d have children of their own
Oh the years go by and the life we have lived in them largely dies
Forever to be unknown again-
I put my heart and mind in a different direction
And began to do what I always do – not think of the district again
Life is this mystery and question we live through and never wholly possess even as we are experiencing it
How long before all will be gone for me
Including the district I live in now?

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Carl Sandburg

An Electric Sign Goes Dark

Poland, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle’s cork.

“Won’t you come and play wiz me” she sang … andI just can’t make my eyes behave.”
“Higgeldy-Piggeldy,” “Papa’s Wife,” “Follow Me” were plays.

Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.

Twenty years old … thirty … forty …
Forty-five and the doctors fathom nothing, the doctors quarrel, the doctors use silver tubes feeding twenty-four quarts of blood into the veins, the respects of a prize-fighter, a cab driver.
And a little mouth moans: It is easy to die when they are dying so many grand deaths in France.

A voice, a shape, gone.
A baby bundle from Warsaw … legs, torso, head … on a hotel bed at The Savoy.
The white chiselings of flesh that flung themselves in somersaults, straddles, for packed houses:
A memory, a stage and footlights out, an electric sign on Broadway dark.

She belonged to somebody, nobody.
No one man owned her, no ten nor a thousand.
She belonged to many thousand men, lovers of the white chiseling of arms and shoulders, the ivory of a laugh, the bells of song.

Railroad brakemen taking trains across Nebraska prairies, lumbermen jaunting in pine and tamarack of the Northwest, stock ranchers in the middle west, mayors of southern cities
Say to their pals and wives now: I see by the papers Anna Held is dead.

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At only 9 years old

At only 9 years old

At age you see your father as a hero
Reads you bedtimes stories and sings lullaby even in your dreams
Your night and shinning amour of a fortress in which you sleep
A friend when you have your mind to speak
But at nine years old, you learn life is cold
He is your pimp so as to feed his alcoholic need
When you are born your soul is of renaissance
But how abusive he is, it took no rocket science
A mother who was suppose to have a heart of paradise
And yet she stood aside as you where raped and vandalized
At only nine years old you tiny flesh ripped apart and sold
Filled with dirt and dressed with mold


By your own father you learnt how to hate a man
By your own mother you never really had a friend
As day in day out elderly man had a feast upon you breasts
With tears in your eyes you felt his thrust and heavy bosoms upon you chest
Only for a couple of rands, like rent to be met for his appetite
At only nine years you saw your hole life deteriorate
The school you learnt was that of life
Education syllabus was how to survive
They sat in the living like nothing had happened
And when one was done another would approach like a pattern in segment
Did they not father their own children?
Or was the greed of lust more devilish then satan


That these molesters and rappers confined to without remorse
And a mother and father who perceived you as their biggest resource
At age nine the real reason you lived was because you where afraid to die
But the real you was dead keeping you alive
I cry the tears you cry even if I not know you
Having your own father rape you because your mother allows him to
She says that’s the way of learning life
Maybe in her death she will realize you are just a child
Locked in your room butler windows for now escape
And yet everyday you prayed and still had faith
At age nine you never had a doll to play
Reality had forced you to a sex slave
How can a father upon his own child prey?
How can a father upon his own child prey?
How can a father upon his own child prey?

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Twenty Years On

I am young so fast so free so young
for so many many years young endless
eternally young never aging living
so fast time stood still in sky motionless.


I thought that I was young.
I thought my teenage years
were still enduring within me.
As indeed they fever pitch were.

For I was still in my psyche somehow;
absolute emotive adventuring teenager.
To enduring perpetual defining depths;
exhilarating a youthful passionate heart.


I thought that I was young.
I thought my teenage years
were still infusing youthful metabolism.
Lasting from nineteen...; nineteen to (39) .

I did not realize that;
I was getting old could be getting older.
No one could have told me;
that I was mere year by year getting old.


Because then I was happy in mind song
I was not aging time whispered siren now.
I lived moment after moment perpetual
in youth renewal in ageless vision dreams.

Time could not slow mind heart beating
in fever pitch internal rhyme renewal.
Time barely touched shadow moments
spent in fleeting untouchable present.


Until dramatic tragedy struck stilled
swift beating of racing unaging mind
heart living in eternal moments barely
time touched exploded into raw present

age explosion evaporated eternal youth
in a single night of absolute devastation
spider tracks crawled crows feet next to
eyes severe age silvered hair instantly in

a single overnight sleep of storm damage.


Here we are twenty years on.

My room still feels the same.
I’ve just shifted house a few times.
From among several cities flat to flat.
House to house effort restarting life.

Temporal music transforms decades changed.
Retro is sound of soul in vibrant dance years.
Retro is sound unchanged singing songs timeless.
Retro is remix stirring stronger renewing as I.


Retro renews itself into new dynamic soaring song.
Tuning into vigorous spirit of new age eternal renewal.
Full of energy purpose achieving timeless transformation
in seemingly seamless moments of now now as I once did.

Without my dwellingly; noticing missing realizing.
I did not even fully realize; I slipped past age curse.
Until tragedy suddenly; my twenties were forever gone.
I was a teenager only yesterday; doubled age in a day.


Whole years went by; I did not notice previously.
Whole years went by; I did not even really notice.
Time went by; in ephemeral perpetual mind song.
I was busy; song infused in youthful metabolism.

Thinking doing; in moments of own dream vision.
Doing best I could; in flesh flat lined need energized.
Too busy to notice; long wrongs meant to hurt soul.
Doing the best; I could for myself all my fellow man.


Somehow like; legendary sleeping Rip Van Wrinkle.
I went to sleep; one night in perpetual timeless youth.
Woke in a later age; years spent in twentieth century;
dream living; age woke up in the twenty-first century!

Yet somehow ever out of place I still belong in dream song!


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Robin Hood and Little John

When Robin Hood was about twenty years old,
With a hey down down and a down
He happend to meet Little John,
A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade,
For he was a lusty young man.

Tho he was calld Little, his limbs they were large,
And his stature was seven foot high;
Where-ever he came, they quak'd at his name,
For soon he would make them to fly.

How they came acquainted, I'll tell you in brief,
If you will but listen a while;
For this very jest, amongst all the rest,
I think it may cause you to smile.

Bold Robin Hood said to his jolly bowmen,
Pray tarry you here in this grove;
And see that you all observe well my call,
While thorough the forest I rove.

We have had no sport for these fourteen long days,
Therefore now abroad will I go;
Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat,
My horn I will presently blow.

Then did he shake hands with his merry men all,
And bid them at present good b'w'ye;
Then, as near a brook his journey he took,
A stranger he chancd to espy.

They happend to meet on a long narrow bridge,
And neither of them would give way;
Quoth bold Robin Hood, and sturdily stood,
I'll show you right Nottingham play.

With that from his quiver an arrow he drew,
A broad arrow with a goose-wing:
The stranger reply'd, I'll liquor thy hide,
If thou offerst to touch the string.

Quoth bold Robin Hood, Thou dost prate like an ass,
For were I to bend but my bow,
I could send a dart quite thro thy proud heart,
Before thou couldst strike me one blow.

'Thou talkst like a coward,' the stranger reply'd;
'Well armd with a long bow, you stand,
To shoot at my breast, while I, I protest,
Have nought but a staff in my hand.'

'The name of a coward,' quoth Robin, 'I scorn,
Wherefore my long bow I'll lay by;
And now, for thy sake, a staff I will take,
The truth of thy manhood to try.'

Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees,
And chose him a staff of ground-oak;
Now this being done, away he did run
To the stranger, and merrily spoke:

Lo! see my staff, it is lusty and tough,
Now here on the bridge we will play;
Whoever falls in, the other shall win
The battel, and so we'll away.

'With all my whole heart,' the stranger reply'd;
'I scorn in the least to give out;'
This said, they fell to't without more dispute,
And their staffs they did flourish about.

And first Robin he gave the stranger a bang,
So hard that it made his bones ring:
The stranger he said, This must be repaid,
I'll give you as good as you bring.

So long as I'm able to handle my staff,
To die in your debt, friend, I scorn:
Then to it each goes, and followd their blows,
As if they had been threshing of corn.

The stranger gave Robin a crack on the crown,
Which caused the blood to appear;
Then Robin, enrag'd, more fiercely engag'd,
And followd his blows more severe.

So thick and fast did he lay it on him,
With a passionate fury and ire,
At every stroke, he made him to smoke,
As if he had been all on fire.

O then into fury the stranger he grew,
And gave him a damnable look,
And with it a blow that laid him full low,
And tunbld him into the brook.

'I prithee, good fellow, O where art thou now?
' The stranger, in laughter, he cry'd;
Quoth bold Robin Hood, Good faith, in the flood,
And floating along with the tide.

I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul;
With thee I'll no longer contend;
For needs must I say, thous hast got the day,
Our battle shall be at an end.

Then unto the bank he did presently wade,
And pulld himself out by a thorn;
Which done, at the last, he blowd a loud blast
Straitway on his fine bugle-horn.

The eccho of which through the vallies did fly,
At which his stout bowmen appeard,
All clothd in green, most gay to be seen;
So up to their master they steerd.

'O what's the matter?' quoth William Stutely;
'Good master, you are wet to the skin:'
'No matter,' quoth he; 'the lad which you see,
In fighting, hath tumbld me in.'

'He shall not go scot-free,' the others reply'd;
So strait they were seizing him there,
To duck him likewise; but Robin Hood cries,
He is a stout fellow, forbear.

There's no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid;
These bowmen upon me do wait;
There's threescore and nine; if thou wilt be mine,
Thou shalt have my livery strait.

And other accoutrements fit for a man;
Speak up, jolly blade, never fear;
I'll teach you also the use of the bow,
To shoot at the fat fallow-deer.

'O here is my hand,' the stranger reply'd,
'I'll serve you with all my whole heart;
My name is John Little, a man of good mettle;
Nere doubt me, for I'll play my part.'

His name shall be alterd,' quoth William
Stutely, 'And I will his godfather be;
Prepare then a feast, and none of the least,
For we will be merry,' quoth he.

They presently fetchd in a brace of fat does,
With humming strong liquor likewise;
They lovd what was good; so, in the green wood,
This pretty sweet babe they baptize.

He was, I must tell you, but seven foot high,
And, may be, an ell in the waste;
A pretty sweet lad; much feasting they had;
Bold Robin the christning grac'd.

With all his bowmen, which stood in a ring,
And were of the Notti[n]gham breed;
Brave Stutely comes then, with seven yeomen,
And did in this manner proceed.

'This infant was called John Little,' quoth he,
'Which name shall be changed anon;
The words we'll transpose, so where-ever he goes,
His name shall be calld Little John.'

They all with a shout made the elements ring,
So soon as the office was ore;
To feasting they went, with true merriment,
And tippld strong liquor gillore.

Then Robin he took the pretty sweet babe,
And cloathd him from top to the toe
In garments of green, most gay to be seen,
And gave him a curious long bow.

'Thou shalt be an archer as well as the best,
And range in the greenwood with us;
Where we'll not want gold nor silver, behold,
While bishops have ought in their purse.

'We live here like squires, or lords of renown,
Without ere a foot of free land;
We feast on good cheer, with wine, ale, and beer,
And evry thing at our command.'

Then musick and dancing did finish the day;
At length, when the sun waxed low,
Then all the whole train the grove did refrain,
And unto their caves they did go.

And so ever after, as long as he livd,
Altho he was proper and tall,
Yet nevertheless, the truth to express,
Still Little John they did him call.

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