If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.

If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.

This story will never go down.

This story will never go down.

Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.

Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.

But that's another story.

But that's another story.

I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.

In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and read more

In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and Little John,
Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men read more

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.