ROBIN earl of Huntington husband of matilda 1347

This will be the bitterest , most damning story I will ever write . How certain
individuals at KMC stole my house & my life .
It starts 6 years ago , right about the time of 9/11 .
Following the harrowing death of my blind mother JUNE ROSE KELLY , the house where
I had lived all my life , was left to me .
It took more than 3 years to wind up the red tape .
At some point I began receiving unknown bills from KMC for several thousand pounds .
I was heavily depressed on strong medication & simply was in no state to handle
officialdom . My depression was further exaserpated with my use of drugs , which
eventually landed me in jail . That was 2003 . While I was in jail , representatives
of HELLIWELL LLANDAU visited me & told me my house had been sold . My entire life ,
all my possessions , the product of over 30 yrs of my life . Valuable goods ,
computers , my beloved musical equipment & priceless recordings , every detail of
myself , my life & my family were dumped in a skip (which they even billed me for).
They brought with them a folder of figures , indicating that after all the deductions
the sale of 2 Pelph lane , had 37 grand left from the 53 000 raised from the sale of
my house . They never contacted me again . following my release straightened out for
2 years , every day I waited for news which they had told me could take a very long time .
eventually I did contact sarah sabine , who politely brushed me off by email .
Saying the matter was closed . wait a minute wheres my money ?
they passed the buck to some administrator (I dont know his exact position) john paul bateman , anyway I was bancrupt that was to last 6 years ...

"Tread lightly o'er the earth, and speak no word,

Till the Great Spirit doth unloose your tongues

For where those Yew trees nod their funeral plumes,

Upon the highest platform of the hill

Lies gentle Robin Hood, his mighty heart,

All muffled up in dust, and his bright eyes,

Quenched in eternal darkness. Never more,

Shall the woods echo to his bugle horn,

Or his unerring arrow strike the deer,

Swift flying, till it hits the bloody grass."

GEORGE SEARLE PHILLIPS (1848)

Robin Hood's Grave

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty and despair !
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away'

SHELLEY

Robin Hood's death is recorded in the ballad ROBIN HOOD, HIS DEATH AND BURIAL and briefly in the GESTE. According to the literature Robin is taken ill and decides to go to Kirklees Priory to be nursed by the prioress, who was 'nye of his kin' and reputedly skilled in healing. On the way to the nunnery Robin is cursed by a witch for reasons unknown, as the ballad is unfortunately incomplete. When Robin arrives at the nunnery, Little John, who has accompanied him, is sent away and the prioress proceeds to bleed Robin by opening a vein in his arm - standard medieval medicine, though unlikely to do anyone much good !

Shee laid the blood irons to Robin Hood's vaine
Alacke the more pitye !
And perct the vaine, and let out the bloode,
That full red was to see.

At first it bled,the thicke,thicke blood,
And afterwards the thinne,
And well then wist good Robin Hoode,
Treason there was within

DEATH, V 16-17

According to the legend, Robin summons Little John with three blasts of his trusty hunting horn and the giant rushes to his
comrade's assistance, but alas, he is too late and Robin is already dying. With his last ounce of strength Robin fires his last arrow from the priory gatehouse window, requesting that where it falls he should be buried. Little John is beside himself with rage and grief and threatens to raze the nunnery and all its inhabitants to the ground.

A boon,a boon, cried Little John,
Master, I beg of thee.

What is that boon, quoth Robin ,
Little John, thou begs of me?
It is to burn fair Kirkley Hall,
And all their nunnery.

I ne'er hurt fair maid in all my life
Nor at my end shall it be;
But give me my bent bow in my hand,
And my broad arrows I'll let flee.

And where this arrow is taken up,
There shall my grave digged be,
Lay me a green sod under my head,
And another at my feet.

And lay my bent bow by my side
Which was my music sweet,
And make my grave of gravel and green,
Which is most right and meet.

Let me have length and breadth enough
With a green sod under my head:
That they may say when I am dead
'HERE LIES BOLD ROBIN HOOD'