Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a high
Small rain the sky did fall
Sweet asked of his own mother dear
he might play at ball
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's that you have been gone
And don't let me hear complaints 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 finest
That any tongue could tell
Good morn, good morn, good morn, they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you three children
Will play at ball me
Oh we are lords and ladies
Born in a hall
And you are but a maiden's
Born in an stall
Now our savior a bridge with the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly followed after him
And they were all three
The upward ball and the downward
Their they did wail and squall
Saying, Mary mild, fetch your child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild picked a of withies
And laid our dear savior across her
And with handful of withy twigs
She him slashes three
Oh cursed be to the bitter
That has caused me to smart, to
And shall be the very first tree
That shall right at the heart
recorded by & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; Roberts &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
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