Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

Son said my mother I was knee high
You need of clothes to cover you and not a rag I
nothing in the house to make a boy's britches
Nor shears to cut a cloth nor thread to take stitches
nothing in the house but a leaf end of rye
And the harp with a the woman's head nobody will by and she began to cry
That was in the early fall and when the late fall
Son she said the of you makes your mother's blood crawl
Little skinny shoulder blades stickin' your clothes
And where you get a jacket from God above
It's lucky for me lad your daddy's in the
And can't see the way I let his son go around and she made a sound
That was in the late fall when the came
I'd not a pair of bridges nor a to my name
I couldn't go to school or out of doors to
And all the other little boys our way
Son my mother come climb into my lap
And I'll chave your little knees you take a nap
And oh but we silly for half an hour or more
Me with my long legs on the floor
I rocked rocked to a mother goose rhyme
Oh but we were happy for half an time
But was I a great boy and what would folks say
To hear my mother singin' me to all day in such a daft way
Men say the winter was bad that year was scarce and food was dear
A wind with a wolf's head about our door
And we burned up the and sat upon 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 song or pity
The night before Christmas I cried the cold
I cried myself to like a two year old
And in the deep I felt my mother rise
And stare down me with love in her eyes
I saw my mother on the one good chair
A light on her face from I couldn't tell where
Looking nineteen and not a day
And the harp with the head leaned against her shoulder
Her thin fingers moving in the thin tall
weave weave weaving wonderful things
Many bright threads from I couldn't see
Were running through the harp strings
And gold threads whistlin' my mother's hands
I saw the web grow and the pattern
She a child's jacket and when it was done
She laid it on the floor and another one
She a red cloak so regal to see
She's made it for a king's son I and not for me but I knew it was for me
She a pair of bridges and quicker than that
She wove a of boots a little cocked hat
She a pair 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 never broke
But when I there sat my mother
With the harp her shoulder lookin' nineteen and not a day older
A smile about her lips and a light her head
And her hands in the harp frozen dead
And piled up beside her toppling to the
Were the clothes of a king's son my size