Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

Son said my mother when I was high
You need of to cover you and not a rag have I
There's nothing in the house to make a boy's
Nor shears to cut a cloth with nor to take stitches
nothing in the house but a leaf end of rye
And the harp with a with the woman's nobody will by and she began to cry
That was in the early fall and when came the late
Son she said the of you makes your mother's blood crawl
Little skinny blades stickin' through your clothes
And where you get a jacket from God above
It's lucky for me lad your in the ground
And can't see the way I let his son go around and she made a queer
That was in the late when the winter came
I'd not a pair of bridges nor a to my name
I couldn't go to or out of doors to play
And all the other little passed our way
Son said my mother come climb my lap
And I'll chave your knees while you take a nap
And oh but we were silly for half an hour or
Me with my long legs on the floor
I rocked rocked to a mother goose rhyme
Oh but we were happy for an hour's time
But was I a great boy and what would folks say
To my mother singin' me to sleep all day in such a daft way
Men say the winter was bad that year fuel was and food was dear
A wind with a wolf's head howled about our
And we burned up the chairs and sat the floor
All that was left us was a chair we couldn't
And the harp with the woman's head nobody would take for or pity sake
The night before I cried with the cold
I cried myself to sleep a two year old
And in the deep night I felt my mother
And stare down me with love in her eyes
I saw my mother on the one good chair
A light falling on her face I couldn't tell where
nineteen and not a day older
And the harp with the woman's leaned against her shoulder
Her thin fingers in the thin tall strings
Were weave weave weaving things
Many threads from where I couldn't see
Were running through the strings rapidly
And gold threads whistlin' through my mother's
I saw the web grow and the pattern
She wove a child's and when it was done
She it on the floor and wove another one
She wove a red so regal to see
made it for a king's son I said and not for me but I knew it was for me
She wove a pair of bridges and quicker that
She wove a pair of a little cocked hat
She wove a of mittens she wove a little blouse
She wove all night in the still cold
She sang as she worked and the harp spoke
But her voice never faltered and the thread never
But when I awoke sat my mother
With the against her shoulder lookin' nineteen and not a day older
A smile about her lips and a light about her
And her hands in the harp strings frozen
And piled up beside her to the skies
the clothes of a king's son just my size