A jolly jest was he
Dances the tales of old
Green his foot and pale his lips
Sang a song so bold

An arrow struck upon thee
Fell down the song
for to his knees he came to be
and then quiet come done

The strings fell no pluck
The green turned to crisp
The forest was quiet and so he be
Scarlet blood run from the lips

The wolves turned to flee
No banner stand proud
For it was seen and came to be
Alan Dale shot down