Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

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