Luyện nghe bài hát Five Carlins

Five
(Robert Burns)
was five carlins in the South,
They upon a scheme,
To send a lad to town,
To bring them hame.
Not only them tidings hame,
But do their there;
And aiblins gowd and baith
Might be laddie's share.
There was Maggie by the o Nith,
A dame wi pride
And Marjorie o' the Lochs,
A carlin and teugh.
And Blinkin of Annandale,
That dwelt near
And Brandy Jean, that her gill,
In sae wide.
And Joan, frae Crichton-Peel,
0' gipsy an kin:
wighter carlins were na found
The countrie within.
To a lad to London town,
met upon a day;
And a knight, and monie a laird,
This errand wad gae.
0, monie a knight, and a laird,
errand ain wad gae;
But nae ane their fancy please,
0, a ane but tway!
The ane was a belted Knight,
Bred of a Border
And he wad gae to Town,
nae man him withstand.
And he wad do their weel,
And meikle he wad
And ilka ane at court
Wad bid to him Guid-day.
The neist cam in a Soger
And spak wi' grace;
And he wad to London Town,
If sae pleasure was
He wad na hecht courtly gifts,
Nor meikle pretend;
But he wad hecht an honest
Wad desert his friend.-
Now to chuse, and wham refuse,
At strife thir fell;
For some had Folk to please,
And some wad themsel.-
Then up mim-mou'd Meg o'Nith,
And she up wi'pride,
And she wad send the
Whatever betide.-
For the Auld o'London Court,
She didna care a
But she wad the Sodger-lad,
To greet his son.-
Then Bess of Annandale,
A deadly she's taen,
she wad vote the Border-knight,
Tho' she should her lane.-
'For far-off hae feathers fair,
'And o' change are fain;
'But I hae this Border-knight,
try him yet again.
Says black Jan 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 laugh them to
But the friends hae blawn the best,
So he shall the horn."
Then Jean spak o'er her drink,
Ye ken, kimmers a',
The Auld Gudeman o'. Court,
His been at the wa':
And mony a friend kiss'd his caup,
Is now a wight;
But ne'er be sae wi' Brandy Jean,
send the Border-knight.'
Then rase Marjory o' the lochs,
And wrinkled was her
Her weed was russet-grey,
Her auld Scots was true.-
There's Great Folk set light by me,
I set as light by
But I will send to London
Whom I best at hame.'-
So how this plea may end,
Nae mortal wight can
God the king, and ilka man,
May look to themsel.-
tune: Chase (269)
FIVECRLN
play.exe
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