Top Songs By Barry Dransfield
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Barry Dransfield
Composer
Lyrics
It's of a pedlar, a pedlar bold
A pedlar bold there chanced to be
He took his pack all on his back
And merrily trudged over the lea
by chance he met with two troublesome men,
Two troublesome men there chanced to be
And one of them was bold Robin Hood
The other one was little John so free
O pedlar, pedlar what is in thy pack
Come speedily and tell to me
I've several suits of the gay green cloth
And silken bowstrings two or three
If you have several suits of the gay green cloth
And silken bowstrings two or three
Then by me body says little John
One half of your packet shall belong to me
O no, o no cries the pedlar bold
O no, o no that ne'er could be
There is never a man in all Nottingham
Can take one half of my pack from me
The pedlar he's pulled off his pack,
Put it a little below his knee
Saying if you do move me one perch from this
My pack and all it shall go with thee.
Then little John he's drawn his sword
The pedlar by his pack did stand
They fought until they both did sweat
Till he cries pedlar pray hold thy hand
And Robin Hood who'd been standing by
Well he did laugh most heartily
I could find a man of much smaller scale
That could thrash the pedlar and also thee
Go try you, master, says little John
And go you try right speedily
For by me body, says little John
I know this night you will know me
Then Robin Hood he's drawn his sword
The pedlar by his pack did stand
They fought until the blood in streams did flow
Till he cries pedlar pray hold thy hand
O pedlar, pedlar what is thy name
Come speedily and tell to me
Well now my name I could never tell,
Till both your names you have told me
The one of us is bold Robin Hood
The other one's little John so free
Then, said the pedlar, it lays to my good will
Whether my name I choose to tell thee.
I'm Gamble Gold of the gay green woods
Travelled far beyond the sea
For killing a man in my father's land
Far from the country I was forced to flee
If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods
Travelled far beyond the sea
You are my mother's own sister's son
What nearer cousins could we be
They sheathed their swords with friendly words
So merrily they did agree
They went to an alehouse and there they dined
And cracked bottles right merrily
Writer(s): Barry Dransfield
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