Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

Son said my when I was knee high
You need of clothes to you and not a rag have I
There's nothing in the house to make a britches
Nor shears to cut a cloth with nor thread to take
nothing in the house but a leaf end of rye
And the harp with a with the head 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 shoulder blades stickin' your clothes
And where you get a jacket God above knows
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 sound
That was in the late fall when the came
I'd not a pair of nor a shirt to my name
I couldn't go to school or out of 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 rocked to a mother rhyme
Oh but we were happy for an hour's time
But there was I a great boy and what folks say
To hear my mother singin' me to all day in such a daft way
Men say the winter was bad year fuel was scarce and food was dear
A wind with a wolf's howled about our door
And we burned up the and sat upon the floor
All that was left us was a chair we break
And the harp with the woman's nobody would take for song or pity sake
The night before Christmas I cried with the
I cried to sleep like a two year old
And in the deep I felt my mother rise
And stare upon me with love in her eyes
I saw my sitting on the one good chair
A light falling on her face from I couldn't where
Looking nineteen and not a day
And the harp with the woman's head against her shoulder
Her thin fingers moving in the tall strings
Were weave weave weaving wonderful
bright threads from where I couldn't see
Were running through the strings rapidly
And gold threads whistlin' my mother's hands
I saw the web and the pattern expand
She a child's jacket and when it was done
She laid it on the floor and wove one
She wove a red 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 wove a of bridges and quicker than that
She wove a pair of boots a cocked hat
She wove a of mittens she wove a little blouse
She wove all in the still cold house
She as she worked and the harp strings spoke
But her never faltered and the thread never broke
But I awoke there sat my mother
With the harp against her shoulder nineteen and not a day older
A smile her lips and a light about her head
And her hands in the strings frozen dead
And piled up beside her toppling to the
Were the clothes of a king's son my size