  From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin, I, at his command, Am sent to view the night sports here. What revel rout Is kept about In every corner where I go, I will o’ersee And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho! More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon; And, in a minute’s space, descry Each thing that’s done below the moon. There’s not a hag Or ghost shall wag But, Robin, I, Their feats will spy And send them home with ho, ho, ho! Whene’er such wanderers I meet, As from their night sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam; Through woods, through lakes, Through bogs, through brakes, Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho! Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride, My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O’er hedge and lands Through pools and ponds I hurry laughing, ho, ho, ho! We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy King and Queen We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks ‘gin sing Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed, We leave instead, And wend us, laughing ho, ho, ho! From hag-bred Merlin’s time have I Thus nightly revel’d to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Goodfellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So vale, vale, ho, ho, ho!
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