Little John's Grave, Hathersage

LITTLE JOHN

His bow was in the chancel hung,
His last good bolt they drave,
Down to the rocks, its measured length
Westward from the grave.
And root and bud this shaft put forth,
When spring returned anon
It grew a tree, and threw a shade
Where slept stauch Little John.

[From an Old Ballad]

There is an account of The Legend of Little John on a separate web page.

(Information provided by Rosemary Lockie)