Luyện nghe bài hát Five Carlins

Five
(Robert Burns)
was five carlins in the South,
They fell a scheme,
To send a lad to town,
To bring them hame.
Not only bring tidings hame,
But do errands there;
And aiblins gowd and honor
be that laddie's share.
There was Maggie by the o Nith,
A dame wi pride
And Marjorie o' the Lochs,
A auld and teugh.
And Blinkin of Annandale,
That near Solway-side;
And Brandy Jean, took her gill,
In sae wide.
And Joan, frae Crichton-Peel,
0' gipsy kith an
Five wighter were na found
The countrie within.
To a lad to London town,
They met upon a
And a knight, and monie a laird,
This errand wad gae.
0, a knight, and monie a laird,
errand ain wad gae;
But nae ane could fancy please,
0, a ane but tway!
The ane was a belted Knight,
of a Border band;
And he wad gae to Town,
nae man him withstand.
And he wad do errands weel,
And he wad say;
And ilka ane at court
Wad bid to him Guid-day.
The neist cam in a Soger
And spak wi' grace;
And he wad gang to Town,
If sae pleasure was
He wad na hecht them gifts,
Nor meikle speech
But he wad hecht an heart
Wad ne'er his friend.-
Now to chuse, and wham refuse,
At strife thir fell;
For some had Gentle to please,
And wad please themsel.-
Then up mim-mou'd Meg o'Nith,
And she up wi'pride,
And she wad the Sodger-lad
might betide.-
For the Gudeman o'London Court,
She didna a pin;
But she wad the Sodger-lad,
To his eldest son.-
Then Bess of Annandale,
A aith she's taen,
That she wad the Border-knight,
she should vote her lane.-
'For far-off fowls hae fair,
'And fools o' are fain;
'But I hae try'd Border-knight,
try him yet again.
Says Jan frae Crighton-peel,
A Carlin stoor and
"The Gudeman, or the Young Gudeman,
For me may or swim."
"For fools will prate o' and Wrang,
While knaves them to scorn;
But the friends hae blawn the best,
So he bear the horn."
Then Jean spak o'er her drink,
Ye weel ken, a',
The Auld o'. London Court,
His been at the wa':
And mony a friend that his caup,
Is now a fremit
But it's ne'er be sae wi' Jean,
We'll the Border-knight.'
slaw rase Marjory o' the lochs,
And was her brow;
Her weed was russet-grey,
Her Scots heart was true.-
There's some Folk set light by me,
I set as by them;
But I will send to London
I lo'e best at hame.'-
So how weighty plea may end,
Nae mortal can tell:
God the king, and ilka man,
May weel to themsel.-
tune: Chevy (269)
FIVECRLN
play.exe
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