The best laid plans…..

To split the arrows shaft,

Still resting in the eye,

That is the archer’s craft,

Who lets the arrow, fly

Still resting in his quiver

Stretching bow and sight,

Gently pulls that sliver,

To give the arrow flight

His target marked in distance fair,

In circular degrees,

He shoots the arrow through the air,

Then thereupon will cease

The king and knight, upon his steed,

A woodsman’s boy did see,

To see him shoot his arrow, plead,

Into the nearest tree,

Three guilders boy, the king said he,

This proud knight, you will beat,

Your arrow on a marked tree,

Come join our fair in speed

Yet should you loose your wager fair,

You bit your freedoms loss,

Your wager just a farthing dare,

But should you win, the knight, his head I’ll dross

The knight in shining armour laughed,

Your liege it isn’t fair,

Not fair the bargain you did draught,

I with him compare

No reason fair, the king did sway,

You’ll make of it a sport,

Henceforth without delay,

Trade arrow for your sword

Three guilders he a king will crown,

Not look at him askance,

Nor should you, bring your king a frown,

You have the best of chance

Should pride precede you, yet instead,

Beware or you could see,

Die shamed, in your bed,

This easy wager flee

Daring dreams, the woodsman’s boy,

Turn weary in his sleep,

To win three guilders bring him joy

But the knight to loose his head, he’d weep

Much thought now not refrain,

Proud the knight he stood,

Another spur would gain,

From this Robin Hood,

The day but weary carried on,

The flight of arrows swift,

From early morn till dawn,

No difference in their rift

The gods had near their light dismiss,

In shadows flight so near,

His arrow could not miss,

To proud, to bow to fear

Yet would, a bird then cross his path,

Woe, is his aim forlorn,

Someone else, that shaft now has,

His aim, by gods forsworn

The liege in his good Grace,

Lay bare the guilders chest,

Wagers of the knight did place,

And now his head and crest

A prayer to his knight so brave,

You wagered all you had,

Yet fell before me like a knave,

In battledress were glad

The little archer boy not proud,

In loincloth he was dressed,

Triumphantly did shout,

I am the very best!

A penny farthing in his hand,

His bread he had forsook,

Throws it down the bloodied sand,

Without another look

\

The king looked stern, and in dismay

Dishonoured by his game,

With life, and gold, would freely play,

A little boy would shame

Beware proud king and knight,

Your wagered skill, and bolt,

The Gods direct the arrows flight,

When winning you foretold

07/02/2008