Luyện nghe bài hát Fete Champetre

FETE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha will to Saint House,
To do our errands there,
O, wha will to Stephen's House
O, th' lads of Ayr, man?
Or will ye send a
Or ye send a sodger?
Or him wha led Scotland a'
The meikle
Come, will ye court a lord,
Or buy a o' lairds, man?
For and Honour pawn their word.
vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane them wine,
Anither gies clatter;
Anbank, wha the ladies' taste,
He a Fete Champetre.
When Love and heard the news
The gay amang, man,
Where, flowers, and busking bowers,
They heard the sang, man:
A vow, seal'd it with a kiss,
Sir Polities to
As their alone, the bliss,
To a Fete Champetre.
Then mounted on gleesome wing,
hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk spring,
Ilk and shaw she knew, man
She summon'd every sprite,
That sports by or water,
On th' bonie of Ayr to meet,
And this Fete Champetre.
Cauld Boreas, wi his crew
Were bound to stakes kye, man;
And Cynthia's ear, o fu,
Clamb up the starry sky,
Reflected beams in the streams,
Or down the current
The western breeze steals through the
To view this Champetre.
How many a robe sae floats,
What sparkling glance, man,
To harmony's notes,
As the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the flood,
Like did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's
To hold Fete Champetre.
When Politics there, to mix
And his ether-stane, man,
He round the magic ground,
But entrance he nane, man:
He for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it, letter,
Wi prayer to join and share
festive Fete Champetre.
(313)

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