Thutrsday, Febt^uatry 15th, 1894. 57 



Have a care. Work's before thee, my fresh Robin 



Hood. 

 'Tis the ran of the season. They're racing for blood. 

 <* And I now hold my own," says the proud Robin Hood. 

 Let not sorrow be courted, nor danger pooh pooh'd ; 

 Black and deep are the bogs here. Beware ! Robin 



Hood. 

 There ! we've got into trouble. I knew well we should 

 If we crossed this deep bottom. My poor Robin Hood ! 

 '<■ Do not grieve, my kind master ; on trouble ne'er brood. 

 I'm in, and I'm out, sir ! " says quick Robin Hood. 

 Ah ! well done ! stalwart Robin ; as gold thou art good ; 

 Tough and strong is thy fibre, my stout Robin Hood. 

 Now hounds fling to the right. Is it acre or rood 

 That we traverse so quickly, my swift Robin Hood ? 

 Here's a fence, and a big one. Rob cares not a bond. 

 Sure you never can do it, my dear Robin-Hood ? 

 " Prithee, trust to me, master, mine's no doubting mood. 

 Funking's only for soft ones. But I'm Robin Hood. 

 Think, oh think what they'd say, sir, while munching 

 their food 



In the stable at home, of the ' Bold Robin Hood,' 



If they heard of his flinching stone, water, or wood ! 



It is not to be thought of ! " says stern Robin Hood. 



Then erect sits his master, all doubt now removed ; 



He will not disappoint thee, my brave Robin Hood. 



They are over. But hark ! There's a holloa ! He 

 viewed ! 



'' I must strive to be with them," says tough Robin Hood. 



'' Shall I prove me soft-hearted ? Soft-hearted, beshrewed ! 



