Pour ale to the archer - his hand is light.
He saw a trail of deer in the forest by the spring.
And he was seized, and waited for the noose, clenching his fists,
But funny arrows saved him from trouble.
Pour ale to the yeoman, let him tell everyone
As with a song, he plowed the field, as he sowed in the spring.
But the king raised the tax again - in an instant the work became disgusting,
And he took the fugitive into his gang Robin Hood.
Pour another drink for the forester - he loves good ale.
He hid his friends in the old gatehouse from raids,
When the guards came to look for the forest shooters,
He accepted the battle, and then went into the forest - and he was like that.
Pour on to a knight whose journey has been long and hard.
He came from the holy land, came home from the war alive,
But there is no land, and there is no castle - he found shelter in the forest.
After revenge, Robin Hood will help to fulfill the vow.
Pour a pour for the noble baron, everyone here knew him:
He raised the good Saxons to fight the Normans.
The rebellion was suppressed, death awaited the troublemaker in prison,
But the arrows helped him to escape and survive.
Norman will have a bitter ale, but let him drink too:
Until the arrow finds him in the wilderness.
Let Guy Gisburne and the sheriff drink, but the deadline will soon be out
And the English ale will become them in the larynx across.
If so, friends, then someone pour the executioner!
So that he could not tighten the noose around our neck.
After all, any decent person in England knows:
Norman Saxon, I swear not to drink forever.
We will raise the cup, which is one for all, in a good hour.
Freedom intoxicates us more than any wine.
Let's praise our native land together - this is our custom -
And the Brotherhood of Sherwood Woods. And all the forest shooters.
