Pipe me thy best lest on a tree ye swing!"

Up to his feet the lusty outlaw sprang,
And thus, in clear melodious voice, he sang:

"I'll sing a song not over long,
A song of roguery.
For I'm a rogue, and thou'rt a rogue,
And so, in faith, is he.
And we are rogues, and ye are rogues,
All rogues in verity.

"As die we must and turn to dust,
Since each is Adam's son,
A rogue was he, so rogues are we,
And rascals every one.

"The Abbot sleek with visage meek,
With candle, book and bell,
Our souls may curse, we're none the worse,
Since he's a rogue as well.

"My lord aloft doth hang full oft
Poor rogues the like o' me,
But all men know where e'er he go
A greater rogue is he.

"The king abroad with knight and lord
Doth ride in majesty,
But strip him bare and then and there