See, now, this just sucks.
-
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.
https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdf
A note on this, uh, "translation":
As much as possible, I tried to do a word-for-word translation, but often this isn't possible or -- if it is -- it's not understandable or clear, so I made appropriate choices there. I also wanted to maintain the ABCB rhyme scheme, which sometimes forced me to take a few liberties, but not anything drastic. A few translation suggestions were taken from the editors of Robin Hood and Other Outlaw Tales. You should always refer back to the Middle English version for a true sense of the original language and music.
Word-for-word translations are ridiculous. Gleemen and minstrels wrote their own versions of this, the words themselves are not and have never been sacred. The events alone are of importantance.
Speaking of word-for-word translations, nobody knows what the fuck "Whitson" is anymore. And the monk not only violated Robin's sanctuary, but did so while he was attending mass. This makes him a huge asshole—a detail completely lost on a modern audience. At least give some half-assed attempt at a cultural reference to help a modern reader understand the story. There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
And why the fuck maintain the rhyme scheme but not the metre? It's a ballad for shit's sake.
This shit sucks.
"Okay Aqua, if you feel that way, why don't you do a better job?"
I'm at least giving it a go. This is everything before the damaged pages at line 120. I'm working on those, too, but they aren't done yet.
In summer, when the woods were bright
And leaves grew large and long,
The merry forest welcomed in
The birds who shared their songThe deer were drawing to the dale
And left the hillocks free
And sheltered in beneath the shade
Of vaulted emerald treesWhite Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.“A merry sight,” said Little John
“By Christ Upon the Cross,
To find a man as half-content
You’d all be at a loss!”“Pluck up your heart, my master, please,”
He ventured on to say,
“No light is ever fairer than
The morning light of May.”“Except I’m troubled,” Robin said,
“I’m sorry that it shows.
It’s time for Sunday Mass again;
It’s there I ought to go.”“It’s been a fortnight since I’ve been—
Much longer than I’d planned.
I’ll try today—but led, I hope
By Mary’s gentle hand.”Along came Much, the Miller’s son,
Who took the two aside.
“A dozen well-armed merry men
Should then be by your side.
That way, for those who wished you harm
They’d risk their suicide.”“Just one, my friend,” said Robin Hood,
“To keep us out of sight.
So Little John shall hold my bow—
Unless we find a fight.”“You’ll hold your own,” said Little John,
“And me, I’ll carry mine.
In fact, a dollar wager for the man
Who shoots the truer line.”“A dollar? No,” said Robin back
“Let’s have a little fun:
For besting me in archery,
I’ll give you three-to-one.”They wagered once, and wagered twice
As both dared not to lose
‘Till Little John had won enough
To buy new socks and shoes.Then silence grew between the two
As Robin stormed ahead
The other tried to claim his prize
When Robin turned his head.He fiercely struck at Little John—
“You cheated!” Robin roared
And Little John responded quick
By brandishing his sword.“Were you another’s master, Robin,
I’d sorely make you pay.
Return to town. Go where you will.
You walk alone today.”So Robin walked to Nottingham,
Uneasy and alone,
And Little John, to Sherwood by
The paths he’d always known.And later, once in Nottingham,
A hooded man began
To pray to Mary and to God
To see him safe again.He stepped inside Saint Mary’s church
And knelt before the Lord
And all within saw Robin Hood
Alone, save bow and sword.Across from him, a local monk
Whose head sat full and round
Identified the visitor
And quickly spun aroundHe bolted out the door and sought
The sheriff as he fled—
Disrupting Robin’s sanctuary,
Betraying him instead.While searching all of Nottingham,
He told the sheriff’s men:
“Secure the gates and arm yourself—
The Thief returns again!”And then he found the sheriff:
“Rise up, and fix your ears!
Surround the church with all your guards,
For Robin Hood is here!I saw the felon there myself,
Attending Sunday mass
The failure’s yours and yours alone
If he’s allowed to pass.I know the traitor, same as you—
He sprang and robbed me blind!
A hundred pounds he took from me—
It’s ever on my mind.”The sheriff nodded, thanked the monk
And smiled, quite content;
Then mobilized his strongest men
And to the church they went.They beat upon St. Mary’s doors
With staves dispersed and drawn
“Alas, alas,” said Robin Hood,
“I so miss Little John!”He drew his longsword out at once
And held it by his knee,
Then charged against the sheriff’s men
Their staves now swinging freeThrice through did Robin come at them
And those who saw it say
He wounded countless armored guards
And twelve he killed that day.His sword, upon the sheriff’s head,
Abruptly broke in two.
“The smith that made you,” Robin said,
“Deserves to be run through!I’m weaponless, and so I yield,
Before more blood is spilled.
(And if I ran, they barred the gates—
They’d surely have me killed.)”Please love yourself.
-
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.
https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdf
A note on this, uh, "translation":
As much as possible, I tried to do a word-for-word translation, but often this isn't possible or -- if it is -- it's not understandable or clear, so I made appropriate choices there. I also wanted to maintain the ABCB rhyme scheme, which sometimes forced me to take a few liberties, but not anything drastic. A few translation suggestions were taken from the editors of Robin Hood and Other Outlaw Tales. You should always refer back to the Middle English version for a true sense of the original language and music.
Word-for-word translations are ridiculous. Gleemen and minstrels wrote their own versions of this, the words themselves are not and have never been sacred. The events alone are of importantance.
Speaking of word-for-word translations, nobody knows what the fuck "Whitson" is anymore. And the monk not only violated Robin's sanctuary, but did so while he was attending mass. This makes him a huge asshole—a detail completely lost on a modern audience. At least give some half-assed attempt at a cultural reference to help a modern reader understand the story. There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
And why the fuck maintain the rhyme scheme but not the metre? It's a ballad for shit's sake.
This shit sucks.
"Okay Aqua, if you feel that way, why don't you do a better job?"
I'm at least giving it a go. This is everything before the damaged pages at line 120. I'm working on those, too, but they aren't done yet.
In summer, when the woods were bright
And leaves grew large and long,
The merry forest welcomed in
The birds who shared their songThe deer were drawing to the dale
And left the hillocks free
And sheltered in beneath the shade
Of vaulted emerald treesWhite Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.“A merry sight,” said Little John
“By Christ Upon the Cross,
To find a man as half-content
You’d all be at a loss!”“Pluck up your heart, my master, please,”
He ventured on to say,
“No light is ever fairer than
The morning light of May.”“Except I’m troubled,” Robin said,
“I’m sorry that it shows.
It’s time for Sunday Mass again;
It’s there I ought to go.”“It’s been a fortnight since I’ve been—
Much longer than I’d planned.
I’ll try today—but led, I hope
By Mary’s gentle hand.”Along came Much, the Miller’s son,
Who took the two aside.
“A dozen well-armed merry men
Should then be by your side.
That way, for those who wished you harm
They’d risk their suicide.”“Just one, my friend,” said Robin Hood,
“To keep us out of sight.
So Little John shall hold my bow—
Unless we find a fight.”“You’ll hold your own,” said Little John,
“And me, I’ll carry mine.
In fact, a dollar wager for the man
Who shoots the truer line.”“A dollar? No,” said Robin back
“Let’s have a little fun:
For besting me in archery,
I’ll give you three-to-one.”They wagered once, and wagered twice
As both dared not to lose
‘Till Little John had won enough
To buy new socks and shoes.Then silence grew between the two
As Robin stormed ahead
The other tried to claim his prize
When Robin turned his head.He fiercely struck at Little John—
“You cheated!” Robin roared
And Little John responded quick
By brandishing his sword.“Were you another’s master, Robin,
I’d sorely make you pay.
Return to town. Go where you will.
You walk alone today.”So Robin walked to Nottingham,
Uneasy and alone,
And Little John, to Sherwood by
The paths he’d always known.And later, once in Nottingham,
A hooded man began
To pray to Mary and to God
To see him safe again.He stepped inside Saint Mary’s church
And knelt before the Lord
And all within saw Robin Hood
Alone, save bow and sword.Across from him, a local monk
Whose head sat full and round
Identified the visitor
And quickly spun aroundHe bolted out the door and sought
The sheriff as he fled—
Disrupting Robin’s sanctuary,
Betraying him instead.While searching all of Nottingham,
He told the sheriff’s men:
“Secure the gates and arm yourself—
The Thief returns again!”And then he found the sheriff:
“Rise up, and fix your ears!
Surround the church with all your guards,
For Robin Hood is here!I saw the felon there myself,
Attending Sunday mass
The failure’s yours and yours alone
If he’s allowed to pass.I know the traitor, same as you—
He sprang and robbed me blind!
A hundred pounds he took from me—
It’s ever on my mind.”The sheriff nodded, thanked the monk
And smiled, quite content;
Then mobilized his strongest men
And to the church they went.They beat upon St. Mary’s doors
With staves dispersed and drawn
“Alas, alas,” said Robin Hood,
“I so miss Little John!”He drew his longsword out at once
And held it by his knee,
Then charged against the sheriff’s men
Their staves now swinging freeThrice through did Robin come at them
And those who saw it say
He wounded countless armored guards
And twelve he killed that day.His sword, upon the sheriff’s head,
Abruptly broke in two.
“The smith that made you,” Robin said,
“Deserves to be run through!I’m weaponless, and so I yield,
Before more blood is spilled.
(And if I ran, they barred the gates—
They’d surely have me killed.)”@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
Why? What makes modernity so sacrosanct? The poets/minstrels of their time's work was as legitimate to them as ours is to ours.
If I'm interested, I'll do the research. If I'm not interested enough to do the work, I'll just have to do without.
Success is measured by your discipline and inner peace. – Mike Ditka
-
Certainly better. But I think it best to read it in its original language and learn it as you go.
@Mik said in See, now, this just sucks.:
Certainly better. But I think it best to read it in its original language and learn it as you go.
@Mik said in See, now, this just sucks.:
Certainly better. But I think it best to read it in its original language and learn it as you go.
Fully agree. The original is always going to be better in this case. Except no one's going to read it except for nerds.
These stories are endlessly fascinating. A major problem: Robin Hood is champion of the poor, right? And so he's a folk story?
No way. At least not until later.
These stories were written down. Most peasants couldn't read or write, and sure as hell didn't have access to paper. The audience for these stories was noblemen just as much as it was peasants. They were cautionary tales.
-
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.
https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdf
A note on this, uh, "translation":
As much as possible, I tried to do a word-for-word translation, but often this isn't possible or -- if it is -- it's not understandable or clear, so I made appropriate choices there. I also wanted to maintain the ABCB rhyme scheme, which sometimes forced me to take a few liberties, but not anything drastic. A few translation suggestions were taken from the editors of Robin Hood and Other Outlaw Tales. You should always refer back to the Middle English version for a true sense of the original language and music.
Word-for-word translations are ridiculous. Gleemen and minstrels wrote their own versions of this, the words themselves are not and have never been sacred. The events alone are of importantance.
Speaking of word-for-word translations, nobody knows what the fuck "Whitson" is anymore. And the monk not only violated Robin's sanctuary, but did so while he was attending mass. This makes him a huge asshole—a detail completely lost on a modern audience. At least give some half-assed attempt at a cultural reference to help a modern reader understand the story. There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
And why the fuck maintain the rhyme scheme but not the metre? It's a ballad for shit's sake.
This shit sucks.
"Okay Aqua, if you feel that way, why don't you do a better job?"
I'm at least giving it a go. This is everything before the damaged pages at line 120. I'm working on those, too, but they aren't done yet.
In summer, when the woods were bright
And leaves grew large and long,
The merry forest welcomed in
The birds who shared their songThe deer were drawing to the dale
And left the hillocks free
And sheltered in beneath the shade
Of vaulted emerald treesWhite Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.“A merry sight,” said Little John
“By Christ Upon the Cross,
To find a man as half-content
You’d all be at a loss!”“Pluck up your heart, my master, please,”
He ventured on to say,
“No light is ever fairer than
The morning light of May.”“Except I’m troubled,” Robin said,
“I’m sorry that it shows.
It’s time for Sunday Mass again;
It’s there I ought to go.”“It’s been a fortnight since I’ve been—
Much longer than I’d planned.
I’ll try today—but led, I hope
By Mary’s gentle hand.”Along came Much, the Miller’s son,
Who took the two aside.
“A dozen well-armed merry men
Should then be by your side.
That way, for those who wished you harm
They’d risk their suicide.”“Just one, my friend,” said Robin Hood,
“To keep us out of sight.
So Little John shall hold my bow—
Unless we find a fight.”“You’ll hold your own,” said Little John,
“And me, I’ll carry mine.
In fact, a dollar wager for the man
Who shoots the truer line.”“A dollar? No,” said Robin back
“Let’s have a little fun:
For besting me in archery,
I’ll give you three-to-one.”They wagered once, and wagered twice
As both dared not to lose
‘Till Little John had won enough
To buy new socks and shoes.Then silence grew between the two
As Robin stormed ahead
The other tried to claim his prize
When Robin turned his head.He fiercely struck at Little John—
“You cheated!” Robin roared
And Little John responded quick
By brandishing his sword.“Were you another’s master, Robin,
I’d sorely make you pay.
Return to town. Go where you will.
You walk alone today.”So Robin walked to Nottingham,
Uneasy and alone,
And Little John, to Sherwood by
The paths he’d always known.And later, once in Nottingham,
A hooded man began
To pray to Mary and to God
To see him safe again.He stepped inside Saint Mary’s church
And knelt before the Lord
And all within saw Robin Hood
Alone, save bow and sword.Across from him, a local monk
Whose head sat full and round
Identified the visitor
And quickly spun aroundHe bolted out the door and sought
The sheriff as he fled—
Disrupting Robin’s sanctuary,
Betraying him instead.While searching all of Nottingham,
He told the sheriff’s men:
“Secure the gates and arm yourself—
The Thief returns again!”And then he found the sheriff:
“Rise up, and fix your ears!
Surround the church with all your guards,
For Robin Hood is here!I saw the felon there myself,
Attending Sunday mass
The failure’s yours and yours alone
If he’s allowed to pass.I know the traitor, same as you—
He sprang and robbed me blind!
A hundred pounds he took from me—
It’s ever on my mind.”The sheriff nodded, thanked the monk
And smiled, quite content;
Then mobilized his strongest men
And to the church they went.They beat upon St. Mary’s doors
With staves dispersed and drawn
“Alas, alas,” said Robin Hood,
“I so miss Little John!”He drew his longsword out at once
And held it by his knee,
Then charged against the sheriff’s men
Their staves now swinging freeThrice through did Robin come at them
And those who saw it say
He wounded countless armored guards
And twelve he killed that day.His sword, upon the sheriff’s head,
Abruptly broke in two.
“The smith that made you,” Robin said,
“Deserves to be run through!I’m weaponless, and so I yield,
Before more blood is spilled.
(And if I ran, they barred the gates—
They’d surely have me killed.)”@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
White Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.Love this! I like it lots more than that Dickinson thing, truth to tell. Something mellifluous and, I don't know, inevitable and right about it.
Success is measured by your discipline and inner peace. – Mike Ditka
-
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
Why? What makes modernity so sacrosanct? The poets/minstrels of their time's work was as legitimate to them as ours is to ours.
If I'm interested, I'll do the research. If I'm not interested enough to do the work, I'll just have to do without.
@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
Why? What makes modernity so sacrosanct? The poets/minstrels of their time's work was as legitimate to them as ours is to ours.
You may have missed my point a bit. I'm neither criticizing the original work nor translations generally. I'm criticizing the execution in this particular case.
These were songs that were later written down—books were not the intended medium. As songs, the originals had a music to them that was an integral part of the performance. Doing a modern translation that ignores this is like baking a cake by omitting the flour. I don't know what you have when you do that, but it isn't what you're saying it is.
Please love yourself.
-
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
White Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.Love this! I like it lots more than that Dickinson thing, truth to tell. Something mellifluous and, I don't know, inevitable and right about it.
@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
White Sunday, when the flowers bloomed
So brilliantly in May—
They rivaled dawn’s own gilded glow—
Such was the scene that day.Love this! I like it lots more than that Dickinson thing, truth to tell. Something mellifluous and, I don't know, inevitable and right about it.
Thanks, but all credit due to the original—they built the house, I'm just trying my hand at bringing it up to code.
A good rule of thumb when doing end rhymes is to complete the couplet in a way that's both unexpected, and when viewed in retrospect, couldn't have been anything else.
That's the goal, anyway. Can't always hit it.
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@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
There's no point in doing a translation if they have to look shit up regardless.
Why? What makes modernity so sacrosanct? The poets/minstrels of their time's work was as legitimate to them as ours is to ours.
You may have missed my point a bit. I'm neither criticizing the original work nor translations generally. I'm criticizing the execution in this particular case.
These were songs that were later written down—books were not the intended medium. As songs, the originals had a music to them that was an integral part of the performance. Doing a modern translation that ignores this is like baking a cake by omitting the flour. I don't know what you have when you do that, but it isn't what you're saying it is.
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
I don't know what you have when you do that, but it isn't what you're saying it is.
I may have missed your point, but your point wasn't that clear until you explained it -- especially to someone like me who knows nothing about the subject.
So what then? If the written translation doesn't do it justice, maybe you could do a collaboration? Seems like that would be worth the effort.
Success is measured by your discipline and inner peace. – Mike Ditka
-
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
-
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
I don't know what you have when you do that, but it isn't what you're saying it is.
I may have missed your point, but your point wasn't that clear until you explained it -- especially to someone like me who knows nothing about the subject.
So what then? If the written translation doesn't do it justice, maybe you could do a collaboration? Seems like that would be worth the effort.
@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
So what then? If the written translation doesn't do it justice, maybe you could do a collaboration? Seems like that would be worth the effort.
Well, the thing is, academics always do this. Always. They ruin the verse. On purpose, because it doesn't matter to them. They're obsessed with words and etymology but not what the original was supposed to sound like. It violates the spirit of the thing, and simply because they can't be bothered.
I'm collaborating all right—with whoever wrote the original. Forget that other guy.
Please love yourself.
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@Axtremus said in See, now, this just sucks.:
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
Looks cool that way, though!
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@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
So what then? If the written translation doesn't do it justice, maybe you could do a collaboration? Seems like that would be worth the effort.
Well, the thing is, academics always do this. Always. They ruin the verse. On purpose, because it doesn't matter to them. They're obsessed with words and etymology but not what the original was supposed to sound like. It violates the spirit of the thing, and simply because they can't be bothered.
I'm collaborating all right—with whoever wrote the original. Forget that other guy.
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
They're obsessed with words and etymology but not what the original was supposed to sound like. It violates the spirit of the thing,
While you were writing the above I was thinking about editing my own post for clarification. By collaboration I was thinking about a collaboration not with someone else who does what you're trying to do -- what for? -- but with someone who specializes in the music of the time.
If such exists. Is anything known about that music? Even an approximation? Because how would you know if what you come up with is accurate? It's not like they had Memorex back then.
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@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
They're obsessed with words and etymology but not what the original was supposed to sound like. It violates the spirit of the thing,
While you were writing the above I was thinking about editing my own post for clarification. By collaboration I was thinking about a collaboration not with someone else who does what you're trying to do -- what for? -- but with someone who specializes in the music of the time.
If such exists. Is anything known about that music? Even an approximation? Because how would you know if what you come up with is accurate? It's not like they had Memorex back then.
@Catseye3 said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
They're obsessed with words and etymology but not what the original was supposed to sound like. It violates the spirit of the thing,
While you were writing the above I was thinking about editing my own post for clarification. By collaboration I was thinking about a collaboration not with someone else who does what you're trying to do -- what for? -- but with someone who specializes in the music of the time.
If such exists. Is anything known about that music? Even an approximation? Because how would you know if what you come up with is accurate? It's not like they had Memorex back then.
Well, here's the thing:
Life back then wasn't like today. There were many regional differences when it came to ballads like this. Minstrels in your town might do it one way, minstrels in others might have used a different tune and altered the words a little or a lot.
Whoever wrote this particular version probably has his music lost to time, but it's a pretty straightforward ballad—period music could easily be attached to it.
As it happens, I know a handful of folks who could help me out with that and might even be interested in doing so. I might inquire.
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@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.
https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdfFirst you give us Kevin Costner, and now this!
Will it never end?
Of course, it could be worse - you could let the Brits have a go:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Hood_(1991_British_film)
They filmed this monstrosity where I got married!
I was only joking
-
The only Robin Hood live action film that I remember seeing start to finish is this:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Hood:_Men_in_TightsI found it quite entertaining.
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@Axtremus said in See, now, this just sucks.:
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
Poetry for squares.
“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill
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@Axtremus said in See, now, this just sucks.:
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
Poetry for squares.
@Mik said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Axtremus said in See, now, this just sucks.:
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
Poetry for squares.
五言绝句，five characters (five syllables) per line, four lines. It’s a classic form used as early as in the 汉 Han Dynasty and popularized in the 唐 Tang Dynasty.
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@Mik said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Axtremus said in See, now, this just sucks.:
OK, just the first four lines:
夏木泛光辉
巨叶留長影
森林迎欢意
百鸟共歌鸣Yeap, no word-for-word there.
Poetry for squares.
五言绝句，five characters (five syllables) per line, four lines. It’s a classic form used as early as in the 汉 Han Dynasty and popularized in the 唐 Tang Dynasty.
-
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.
https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdfFirst you give us Kevin Costner, and now this!
Will it never end?
Of course, it could be worse - you could let the Brits have a go:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Hood_(1991_British_film)
They filmed this monstrosity where I got married!
@Doctor-Phibes said in See, now, this just sucks.:
@Aqua-Letifer said in See, now, this just sucks.:
This is, as far as anyone's aware, the oldest recorded story of Robin Hood.https://mariahmccune.weebly.com/uploads/1/9/2/8/19282013/robin_hood_and_the_monk.pdf
First you give us Kevin Costner, and now this!
Will it never end?
Of course, it could be worse - you could let the Brits have a go:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Hood_(1991_British_film)
They filmed this monstrosity where I got married!
