Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

Son my mother when I was knee high
You of clothes to cover you and not a rag have I
There's nothing in the to make a boy's britches
Nor shears to cut a with nor thread 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 fall
Son she said the sight of you makes mother's blood crawl
Little skinny shoulder blades 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 a queer sound
That was in the late when the winter came
I'd not a pair of bridges nor a shirt to my
I couldn't go to or out of doors to play
And all the other little passed our way
Son said my mother climb into my lap
And chave your little knees while you take a nap
And oh but we were silly for an hour or more
Me with my long legs on the floor
I rocked rocked to a mother goose rhyme
Oh but we happy for half an hour's time
But there was I a boy and what would folks say
To my mother singin' me to sleep all day in such a daft way
Men say the was bad that year fuel was scarce 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 we couldn't break
And the harp the woman's head nobody would take for song or pity sake
The night before Christmas I cried with the
I cried myself to sleep a two year old
And in the night I felt my mother rise
And stare down upon me with love in her
I saw my mother sitting on the one good
A light on her face from I couldn't tell where
nineteen and not a day older
And the harp with the woman's head leaned her shoulder
Her thin fingers moving in the thin tall
Were weave weave weaving things
bright threads from where I couldn't see
Were through the harp strings rapidly
And gold whistlin' through my mother's hands
I saw the web grow and the pattern
She wove a jacket and when it was done
She laid it on the and wove another one
She wove a red cloak so to see
She's it for a king's son I said and not for me but I knew it was for me
She wove a of bridges and quicker than that
She a pair of boots a little cocked hat
She wove a pair of mittens she wove a little
She wove all night in the still cold
She sang as she worked and the harp spoke
But her voice never faltered and the never broke
But when I there sat my mother
With the harp against her shoulder nineteen and not a day older
A smile about her lips and a about her head
And her hands in the harp frozen dead
And up beside her toppling to the skies
Were the clothes of a king's son just my