Luyện nghe bài hát Prince Heathen

Prince
Margaret sat in a tower high
And as pale as a milk white swan
When she saw a on the plain
Come her and the sun.
"Oh, mother, is it a
Or a flight of in the air,
Or a black army a silver flag
And a man amongst them there?"
"Oh, daughter, go run in your little
And bid to your flowers so gay.
For yonder comes Heathen's men
And I fear coming to take you away."
In there come Prince then, saying
"Good day to you.
And will l find that sweet little bride
With her hands as soft as dew?"
Young Margaret locked her bower
But his men made the hinges spring
And in there come Prince then
And to her a gay gold ring.
at him the ring she flung
She cries "Of you I no fear.
I'll call you seven times
Rather then you husband dear."
He then, by her yellow hair,
make her weep and call him dear.
He's taken her in his two arms,
And her on the cold stone floor.
And when he set her again,
Her from her he's ta'en:
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
He's cast her down in a of stone
forty locks did hang thereto.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"Come, give my lady of the salt, meat,
And bitter for her brew,
"Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
Heathen down from the mountains came
Where he'd been hunting his armoured men.
He came unto this fair young
All in the prison she is laid.
"A drink, a drink, Heathen" she said.
"Even if from the muddy well pool."
"Never a drink! you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He's her by her yellow hair,
And tied it to his tail.
He's dragged her through the bushes and
grow so thick all on the plain
"Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen" she
"Already the has filled me shoe".
"Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
He shortened and on he flew,
And with her body harrowed the road.
Her silken skirt in tore,
Her blouse was spattered with blood.
"Ride slower, slower, Heathen," she says
"For the road it sorely my knee".
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He shortened and on he flew.
He's her through the briar and thorns.
Young Margaret a pitiful cry,
And there she's had her little born.
"Oh how can I wrap me little babe
Seeing as I've nothing to him in?"
He give to her his blanket
"That'll roll him cheek to chin".
As she the blanket from his hand
down her cheeks they trickling run.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?".
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"I'm weeping for me own little
Your blanket's too to roll him in,
and alas, the day I rue
That ever I met such as you!"
He says "Go wash my in the milk,
And my lady in the silk;
When are breaking, hands must bow,
And well I my lady now".
She says "When violets on the window-pane
And roses grow on the floor,
It's then I'll return again
And be bride forevermore".
#104
A. L. Lloyd this ancient Child ballad. The
chilling of the song stems from the juxtaposition be-
stark physical brutality and psychological complexity.
Recorded by Armstrong
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