Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a high
Small rain from the sky did
Sweet Jesus asked of his own dear
Whether he might at ball
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's time that you have been
And don't let me hear complaints you
At night you do come home
Now our walked down into yonder town
As far as the holy, well
And there he met of the finest children
That ever any tongue tell
Good morn, good morn, good morn, they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you fine children
Will at ball with me
Oh we are lords and ladies
Born in a bowery
And you are but a child
Born in an oxen
Now our savior built a with the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly followed after him
And they were all three
The upward and the downward ball
mothers they did wail and squall
Saying, mild, fetch home your child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild picked a handful of
And laid our dear savior her knee
And with handful of withy twigs
She gave him slashes
Oh cursed be to the bitter
has caused me to smart, to smart
And that be the very first tree
That shall perish at the heart
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
play.exe
SF
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