If you are declared ďWANTEDĒ, And you soon may meet the rack, If the hangman, nothing daunted, Soaps a rope for your neck - Hurry off to Sherwood Forest, Thereís a shelter, safe and strong, - If they sold you in chorus With your entrails for a song! Yeomen, running from oppression, Who despise all risks and threats, Poor servants whose possessions Are but just enormous debts, All the vagabonds and wretches Run and hide inside this wood, Where the masterís a courageous Good old fellow - Robin Hood! They will trust you with no vow, Though brawls occur, of course, And they never throw out Outcasts and outlaws. Even knights would join them here In this wood of pine and oak. Those above reproach and fear, As a rule, are always broke. Deer trails these people know Like the lines of their palms. They are archers here, although In the past were slaves and bums. Serfs and losers by these archers Will be saved and understood. No one is free as much as Good old fellow - Robin Hood! They donít care for the sheriff With his law a bloody damn, And for nothing they would care if The forest covers them! Starry heavens are their blanket, Under head - a mossy mound... Donít complain of cold - but thank it That youíre, buddy, safe and sound! Feeling homesick and low? Cheer up, man, itís all right! You had better fit your bow - Must be perfect in a fight! These free archers have no peers, No shooters are as good... Where will these guys appear With this fellow - Robin Hood?
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2001
Edited by Robert Titterton