His bugle horn hung at his hip and his bow and arrows at his back, while in his hand he bore a good stout oaken staff, which he twirled with his fingers as he strolled along.
As thus he walked down a shady lane he saw a tinker coming, trolling a merry song as he drew nigh.

On his back hung his bag and his hammer, and in his hand he carried a right stout crabstaff full six feet long, and thus sang he: "_In peascod time, when hound to horn Gives ear till buck be killed, And little lads with pipes of corn Sit keeping beasts afield_--" "Halloa, good friend!" cried Robin.
"I WENT TO GATHER STRAWBERRIES--" "Halloa!" cried Robin again.
"BY WOODS AND GROVES FULL FAIR--" "Halloa! Art thou deaf, man?
Good friend, say I!" "And who art thou dost so boldly check a fair song ?" quoth the Tinker, stopping in his singing.

"Halloa, shine own self, whether thou be good friend or no.

But let me tell thee, thou stout fellow, gin thou be a good friend it were well for us both; but gin thou be no good friend it were ill for thee." "And whence comest thou, my lusty blade ?" quoth Robin.
"I come from Banbury," answered the Tinker.
"Alas!" quoth Robin, "I hear there is sad news this merry morn." "Ha! Is it indeed so ?" cried the Tinker eagerly.

"Prythee tell it speedily, for I am a tinker by trade, as thou seest, and as I am in my trade I am greedy for news, even as a priest is greedy for farthings." "Well then," quoth Robin, "list thou and I will tell, but bear thyself up bravely, for the news is sad, I wot.