He watched them eating, drinking, laughing, talking,
Busy with finger and spoon,
While three most cunning Fiddlers, clad in crimson,
Played them a supper-tune.
And he waited in the tree-top like a Starling,
Till the Moon was gotten low;
When all the windows in the walls were darkened,
He softly in did go.
There Robin and his Dame in bed were sleeping,
And his Children young and fair;
Only Robin's Hounds from their warm kennels
Yelped as he climbed the stair.
All, all were sleeping, page and fiddler,
Cook, scullion, free from care;
Only Robin's Stallions from their stables
Neighed as he climbed the stair.
A wee wan light the Moon did shed him,
Hanging above the sea,
And he counted into his bag (of beaten Silver)
Platters thirty-three.
Of Spoons three score; of jolly golden Goblets
He stowed in four save one,
And six fine three-branched Cupid Candlesticks,
Before his work was done.
Nine bulging bags of Money in a cupboard,
Two Snuffers, and a Dish
He found, the last all studded with great Garnets
And shapen like a Fish.
Then tiptoe up he stole into a Chamber,
Where on Tasselled Pillows lay
Robin and his Daule in dreaming slumbers
Tired with the summer's day.
That Thief he mimbled round him in the gloaming,
Their treasure for to spy,
Combs, Brooches, Chains, and, Rings, and Pins and Buckles
All higgledy, Piggle-dy.
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