"
"Methinks thou art right," quoth Robin, "and, contrariwise, that when we
kiss a pleasure that appeareth gay it turneth foul to us; is it not so,
Little John? Truly such a thing hath brought thee sore thumps this day.
Nay, man, never look down in the mouth. Clear thy pipes and sing us a
ditty."
"Nay," said Little John, "I have none as fair as that merry Arthur has
trolled. They are all poor things that I know. Moreover, my voice is
not in tune today, and I would not spoil even a tolerable song by ill
singing."
Upon this all pressed Little John to sing, so that when he had denied
them a proper length of time, such as is seemly in one that is asked to
sing, he presently yielded. Quoth he, 'Well, an ye will ha' it so, I
will give you what I can. Like to fair Will, I have no title to my
ditty, but thus it runs:
"_O Lady mine, the spring is here,
With a hey nonny nonny;
The sweet love season of the year,
With a ninny ninny nonny;
Now lad and lass
Lie in the grass
That groweth green
With flowers between.
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