Luyện nghe bài hát Prince Heathen

Prince
Young Margaret sat in a tower
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 with a silver
And a ragged man them there?"
"Oh, daughter, go run in little yard
And bid to your flowers so gay.
For yonder comes Prince men
And I fear they're coming to you away."
In there Prince Heathen then, saying
"Good day to you.
And will l find that sweet little bride
With her as soft as morning 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 "Of you I have no fear.
I'll call you wolf-hound times
then call you husband dear."
He swore then, by her hair,
He'd her weep and call him dear.
He's taken her in his two arms,
And laid her on the 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 her down in a cabin of stone
Where forty locks did thereto.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"Come, give my of the salt, salt meat,
And vinegar for her brew,
"Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
Prince Heathen from the mountains came
Where he'd been hunting with his men.
He came unto this young maid
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."
taken her by her yellow hair,
And it to his horse's tail.
He's dragged her the bushes and briars
grow so thick all on the plain
"Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen" she
"Already the blood has 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, Prince Heathen," she
"For the road it hurts my knee".
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He stirrups and on he flew.
He's dragged her the briar and thorns.
Young Margaret a pitiful cry,
And there had her little babe born.
"Oh how can I wrap me sweet babe
Seeing as I've nothing to him in?"
He give to her his saddle
"That'll roll him cheek to chin".
As she the blanket from his hand
Tears down her cheeks they run.
"Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?".
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"I'm for me own little son;
Your blanket's too to roll him in,
and alas, the day I rue
That ever I met rogues as you!"
He says "Go my baby in the milk,
And dress my lady in the
When hearts are breaking, hands bow,
And well I love my now".
She says "When violets bloom on the
And grow on the kitchen floor,
It's that I'll return again
And be bride forevermore".
Child
A. L. Lloyd refurbished this Child ballad. The
chilling tension of the stems from the juxtaposition be-
tween stark physical brutality and complexity.
by Frankie Armstrong
filename[
SF
===DOCUMENT