Finally, a third poem surrounding the life and death of Robin Hood and His Merry Men, one composed by Ellen Miller. I am blessed by some brilliant students in my Medieval Literature class at Coram Deo Academics—a homeschooling adjunct located in Owosso, Michigan.
Move over, Phillip Levine! Watch out world! For I have three brilliant academics in my class who will blow the lid off the world of prosody and poesy. I’m happy to be the first to present the works of these fantastic students.
The Tale of Robin Hood
By Ellen Miller
Deep in the heart
Of Sherwood Forest
Many tales have been woven
Of a great man and his band
Of merry followers and friends.
Not all started out as friends:
In fact, barely any at all,
Including me—ah yes, me;
We are now best of friends,
But that was certainly not always so.
We met on a bridge─
A log, more like:
He wanted to pass first,
But I had been there first
(Though he would say opposite).
So we had a quarrel,
A fight ensued;
I had to admit, he wasn’t bad,
But in the end, I knocked him off
With my broad quarterstaff.
After that (believe it or not),
We became best of friends.
This jest was the name he christened me:
“Little John,” how droll,
As I tower above them all.
So many adventures,
The two of us had,
With other merry men,
We made a name for ourselves,
And many good times and memories were made.
Alas—it was not to last,
For Robin Hood, I must say,
Was not loved by all;
This cousin, a nun,
Brought him down by her “healing” hands.
Did I say, “We are now best of friends?”
Make that we were,
For yes, Robin Hood died.
I was with him in his final moments,
And I shall never forget.
He raised his bow;
How he had the strength, I’ll never know,
And he shot one last arrow.
He told me to bury him
Where that last arrow fell.
And so our merry adventures
Came to an end.
But the memories and friendship will last,
And the tale will be told for centuries,
Of one man and his merry band.
Copyright © 2013, Ellen Miller
All rights reserved
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Carmina ad Gloriae Dei 