Luyện nghe bài hát Prince Heathen

Prince
Young sat in a tower high
And she's as pale as a white swan
When she saw a shadow on the
betwixt 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 little yard
And bid to your flowers so gay.
For comes Prince Heathen's men
And I fear they're to take you away."
In come Prince Heathen then, saying
"Good day to you.
And where will l find that little bride
With her hands as as morning dew?"
Young Margaret her bower door
But his men soon the hinges spring
And in there Prince Heathen then
And give to her a gay ring.
Back at him the ring she
She "Of you I have no fear.
I'll call you seven times
Rather then call you dear."
He then, by her yellow hair,
make her weep and call him dear.
He's taken her in his two arms,
And laid her on the stone floor.
And he set her free again,
Her maidenhead 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 cabin of
forty locks did hang thereto.
"Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"Come, my lady of the salt, salt meat,
And bitter for her brew,
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
Prince Heathen down from the came
Where he'd been hunting his armoured men.
He unto this fair young maid
All in the where 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."
taken her by her yellow hair,
And it to his horse's tail.
He's dragged her through the and briars
That grow so all on the plain
"Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen" she
"Already the has filled me shoe".
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
He stirrups and on he flew,
And her body he's harrowed the road.
Her silken in tatters tore,
Her blouse was spattered with blood.
"Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen," she
"For the road it hurts my knee".
"Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He stirrups 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 sweet little
Seeing as nothing to roll him in?"
He give to her his saddle
"That'll roll him from to chin".
As she took the blanket his hand
Tears down her they trickling run.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?".
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"I'm for me own little son;
Your blanket's too rough to him in,
and alas, the day I rue
That ever I met rogues as you!"
He says "Go wash my in the milk,
And my lady in the silk;
When hearts are breaking, must bow,
And I love my lady now".
She says "When violets on the window-pane
And roses grow on the floor,
It's then that I'll again
And be your forevermore".
#104
A. L. refurbished this ancient Child ballad. The
chilling tension of the song stems the juxtaposition be-
tween stark brutality and psychological complexity.
Recorded by Frankie
PRINHEAT
SF
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