Luyện nghe bài hát Chylde Owlet

CHYLDE
Lady Erskine sits in her
A sewing her seam
A bonnie for Chylde Owlet
As he oot and in
His face was fair, lang was his
She's him to come nigh
Oh ye maun cuckold Lord
For a' his and kye
Oh lady, your tongue for shame
such a thing e'er be done
How could I Lord Ronald
And me his son
Then she's oot a wee penknife
lay beside her bed
And pricked below her breist
Which made her bleed
Lord Ronald's into her bower
Whaur she did her mane
Oh, wha's is a' blood, he says
That sparks on hearth stane?
Chylde Owlet, your sister's son
Is new frae my bower
Gin I hadnae been a woman
I'd hae Chylde Owlet's whore
Then he has young Chylde Owlet
Cast him in strang
And a his men a council
To Chylde Owlet wrang
Some said Chylde Owlet should be
Some said he should burn
Some said they would hae Owlet
wild horses torn
There are in my stable stand
Can rin richt
ye maun tae my stable gang
And oot four far me
They've put a to ilka foot
and ain tae hand
And sent oot ower Elkin Moor
As fast as could gang
There wasnae grass nor heather
Nor broom nor bonnie
But drappit wi' Chylde blood
And o' his skin
There wasnae stane on Elkin
Nor yet a piece o'
But drappit wi' Chylde blood
And o' his flesh
Child
recorded by Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl on Blood &
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