Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a holiday
Small rain from the sky did
Jesus asked of his own mother dear
Whether he play at ball
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's time that you have been
And don't let me hear complaints you
At night when you do come
Now our Savior walked down into yonder
As far as the holy, holy
And there he met three of the children
ever any tongue could tell
Good morn, good morn, morn, said they
Good morning, then he, said he
Now which of you fine children
play at ball with me
Oh we are lords and sons
Born in a bowery
And you are but a maiden's
Born in an oxen
Now our savior built a bridge the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children after him
And drowned they 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 mild picked a handful of withies
And laid our dear across her knee
And with that of withy twigs
She gave him three
Oh cursed be to the withy
That has caused me to smart, to
And that shall be the first tree
That shall perish right at the
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
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