Title: APRYL 15, 1192
Author: Greenhenge
Summary: Since tax day is rapidly approaching, I dusted off this old spoof "Night Before Christmas" in honor of Robin and his band of lovable outlaws. My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do BBC's Robin Hood, but I have been to the Major Oak.
T'was the night before taxes would move through the shire;
The outlaws were plotting a scheme by the fire.
The sheriff and Guy paced the floor in despair,
Knowing that Robin was out there somewhere.
The taxes were nestled, all snug in their lair,
But Vasey's dreams were more like nightmares.
King John had promised the sheriff's doom
If Nottingham's taxes didn't reach London soon.
When out in the courtyard there arose such a clatter,
The sheriff called for Gisborne to see what was the matter!
Away to the castle gate, Guy flew in a flash,
Setting a new shire record for the hundred yard dash.
The moon on the crest of the battlements shone,
Casting long shadows on gray castle stones.
The air this night was heavy with dew –
Sir Guy soon realized he needed the loo!
"Well, Gisborne?" said the sheriff with an incredulous stare
"Speak up, man! Now tell me, what saw you out there/"
"Oh it was nothing … er, nothing my Lord,
"Just the night wind, t'was nothing more."
In the meantime, the outlaws, through the forest they came,
Robin and the Greenwood Gang, we all know their names:
Will Scarlett, Djaq and Little John.
Alan, faithful Much, and Marian.
They labor for justice, and fight for the poor,
Ever-armed, ever-ready to even the score.
To the edge of Sherwood – to the top of the moors,
They are just shadows on the damp forest floor.
The gang set a trap at the bridge on the Trent
Awaiting the dawn and the day's main event.
And then in a while they heard on the road
The plodding of horses toiling under a load,
"Now!" Cried Robin, while drawing his bow
Seven arrows flew, the guards hit the road.
The ambush had worked – or so it seemed,
But the wagon was empty – not a mark to be seen!
"What's this?" screamed Alan, his face bright red.
"Where are the taxes? I thought that you said …."
"Quiet, lad," Robin sternly commanded.
"Must you always be reprimanded?"
"The taxes are here, the floorboard's a fake,
This silver and gold is all ours to take.
John shook his head, Much sighed and groaned
Alan-a-Dale just wished he were stoned.
Through the backwoods near Locksley, with nary a sound,
Down to Nettlestone village they went with a bound.
To the Sherwood Seven, families came straight away,
Knowing that Robin would soon make their day.
A bundle of coins Rob had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes – how they twinkled; his smile so cherry
Serfs grinned with delight – gotta love those merries.
Back at the castle, Nottingham's sheriff sobbed.
Another failure. Egad! He'd be out of a job.
How did he know? Maybe Marian heard,
She is so meddlesome, that eavesdropping bird
Vasey had a sad face and sickened belly,
His shame would make news on the CNN tele.
Gisborne cursed, he shouted, then started to hurl,
Would he ever best that Huntingdon Earl?
Robin spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled all the coffers, then turned with a jerk.
He signaled the gang, "To the camp before night.
"It's time for a rest and a warm mead lite."
They sprang to their feet and to all gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle.
But Robin exclaimed, as they ran through the wood,
"I very much like being Robin 'n the Hood!"
Castle Nottingham News
