Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a high
Small rain from the sky did
Sweet Jesus asked of his own dear
Whether he might play at
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's time that you been gone
And don't let me complaints about you
At night when you do home
Now our Savior down into yonder town
As far as the holy, well
And there he met of the finest children
That ever any tongue tell
Good morn, morn, good morn, said they
Good morning, said he, said he
Now which of you three children
Will play at ball me
Oh we are and ladies sons
Born in a bowery
And you are but a child
in an oxen stall
Now our savior a bridge with the beams of the sun
and over the ran he, ran he
And the jolly children followed after him
And drowned were all three
The upward ball and the ball
Their mothers they did wail and
Saying, Mary mild, fetch home child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild picked a of withies
And laid our dear savior across her
And with that handful of withy
She gave him three
Oh be to the bitter withy
That has me to smart, to smart
And that shall be the very tree
That shall right at the heart
recorded by MaColl & English & Scottish Ballads; Roberts &
- Nowell Sing We Clear
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