Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it out on a high holiday
Small from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus asked of his own mother
Whether he play at ball
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's time that you been gone
And let me hear complaints about you
At when you do come home
Now our Savior down into yonder town
As far as the holy, holy
And there he met three of the finest
ever any tongue could tell
Good morn, good morn, morn, said they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you three children
play at ball with me
Oh we are lords and sons
Born in a hall
And you are but a maiden's
in an oxen stall
Now our savior built a bridge the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children after him
And drowned they were all
The upward ball and the downward
Their they did wail and squall
Saying, mild, fetch home your child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild picked a of withies
And our dear savior across her knee
And with that handful of withy
She gave him slashes
Oh cursed be to the bitter
That has caused me to smart, to
And that be the very first tree
That shall perish right at the
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; &
Barrand - Nowell We Clear
BITWITHY
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