Luyện nghe bài hát Chylde Owlet

CHYLDE
Lady sits in her bower
A sewing her seam
A bonnie sark for Owlet
As he oot and in
His was fair, lang was his hair
She's ca'd him to nigh
Oh ye maun cuckold Ronald
For a' his and kye
Oh lady, hold tongue for shame
That such a thing e'er be
How could I cuckold Ronald
And me his son
Then she's ta'en oot a wee
lay beside her bed
And pricked hersel her breist
Which made her body
Lord Ronald's come her bower
Whaur she did her mane
Oh, wha's is a' blood, he says
That sparks on hearth stane?
Young Owlet, your sister's son
Is new gane frae my
Gin I been a good woman
I'd hae been Chylde whore
he has ta'en young Chylde Owlet
Cast him in prison
And a his men a council
To work Chylde Owlet
Some Chylde Owlet should be hung
Some said that he burn
Some said they hae Chylde Owlet
Between wild horses
There are in my stable stand
Can rin speedily
ye maun tae my stable gang
And oot four far me
put a horse to ilka foot
and ain tae ilka
And sent them oot Elkin Moor
As fast as they gang
There wasnae grass nor heather
Nor nor bonnie whin
But drappit wi' Owlet's blood
And o' his skin
There wasnae stane on Elkin
Nor yet a piece o'
But wi' Chylde Owlet's blood
And o' his flesh
#291
recorded by Seeger and Ewan MacColl on Blood & Roses
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