Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it out on a high holiday
rain from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus of his own mother dear
Whether he might at ball
To play, to play, child she did say
It's that you have been gone
And don't let me hear about you
At night when you do home
Now our Savior walked down into town
As far as the holy, holy
And there he met three of the children
That ever any tongue tell
Good morn, good morn, good morn, they
Good morning, said he, said he
Now which of you three children
Will play at with me
Oh we are lords and ladies
Born in a bowery
And you are but a child
Born in an oxen
Now our savior built a bridge with the of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the jolly children followed after him
And drowned they were all
The upward ball and the ball
Their mothers they did wail and
Saying, mild, fetch home your child
For ours are all
Then mild picked a handful of withies
And laid our dear across her knee
And that handful of withy twigs
She him slashes three
Oh be to the bitter withy
has caused me to smart, to smart
And shall be the very first tree
That shall perish at the heart
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Roberts &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
play.exe
SF
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