The Relay Museum

I must go walke the woed

I must go walke the woed so wild
And wander here and there
In dred and dedly fere,
For where I trusted I am begild,
And all for one.

Thus am I banished from my blis
By craft and false pretens,
Fautless, without offens,
As of return no certen is,
And all for fer of one.

My bed shall be under the grenwod tree,
A tuft of brakes under my hed,
As one from joye were fled.
Thus from my lif day by day I flee
And all for one...

The ronning stremes shall be my drinke,
Acorns shall be my fode:
Nothing may do me good,
But when of your bewty I do think,
And all for love of one.

I must go walk the wood

I must go walk the wood so wild
And wander here and there
In dread and deadly fear,
For where I trusted I am beguiled,
And all for one.

Thus am I banished from my bliss
By craft and false pretense,
Faultless, without offense,
As of return no certainty is,
And all for fear of one.

My bed shall be under the greenwood tree,
A tuft of brakes under my head,
As one from joy were fled.
Thus from my life day by day I flee,
And all for one.

The running streams shall be my drink,
Acorns shall be my food:
Nothing may do me good,
But when of your beauty I do think,
And all for love of one.

Special case, none required:
The ~translation from Middle English to Modern English wasn't too tough,
especially for one who knows something about Chaucer.