Luyện nghe bài hát English Fire

Seven brides serve me seven
Seven writhe for me
From Orient to Rlyeh
to Thessaly

And sing from stern
But now I to play
For I yearn to to woodland ferns
Where Herne and his huntress lay

Now the are turning, spurning the darkness
The great purgations of distinguished
Are but stills in time to the thrill that Im once
to the bedding of her English shores

The bickered in Satanic mill sails
flickered in deep thickets of trees
And mists clung in panic to vales
When Brigantia spoke her to me

Imbolg to Bealtaine
Lughnasadh to Samhain
I her lament as seasons blent
a chimerical beast

Now the are turning churning in darkness
The celebrations of extinguished
Are but in time to the chill that climbs once more
the red weddings on her English shores

Gone are the rustic summers of my
Cruel winters cut sacred throats
With polished scythes reap worldwide
Pitch skies and forest smoke

And the that I saw there
Drones of law
Drove the of my forbears
To rove and once more

One of her from the vast far flung
Come to rebuild
The rampant of the Leonine
Risen over fields

Now the tidal are turning burning in
The of her hungry sword
Shalt spill like from the hills to chines that pour
Spreading her beheadings on English shores

For the hosts that I saw
of carrion law
Drove the of my forbears
To rove and rally more

This is a for England
From its reticent
This is a waking for
Lest hope and are regarded as foes