Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a high
rain from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus of his own mother dear
he might play at ball
To play, to play, child she did say
It's time you have been gone
And let me hear complaints about you
At night you do come home
Now our walked down into yonder town
As far as the holy, holy
And he met three of the finest children
That any tongue could tell
Good morn, good morn, good morn, said
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you three children
play at ball with me
Oh we are and ladies sons
Born in a hall
And you are but a child
in an oxen stall
Now our savior built a bridge the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children followed him
And drowned were all three
The upward ball and the ball
mothers they did wail and squall
Saying, Mary mild, fetch home your
For are drownded all
Then Mary mild picked a handful of
And laid our dear savior her knee
And that handful of withy twigs
She gave him slashes
Oh be to the bitter withy
That has me to smart, to smart
And that shall be the very tree
That shall perish at the heart
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Ballads; Roberts &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
play.exe
SF
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