Luyện nghe bài hát Prince Heathen

Prince
Margaret sat in a tower high
And she's as pale as a milk white
When she saw a shadow on the
betwixt her and the sun.
"Oh, mother, is it a
Or a of ravens in the air,
Or a black army a silver flag
And a ragged man them there?"
"Oh, daughter, go run in your little
And bid adieu to your so gay.
For yonder comes Heathen's men
And I fear they're to take you away."
In there Prince Heathen then, saying
"Good day to you.
And where will l find that sweet bride
With her as soft as morning dew?"
Margaret locked her bower door
But his men soon the hinges spring
And in there Prince Heathen then
And to her a gay gold ring.
Back at him the ring she
She cries "Of you I no fear.
I'll you wolf-hound seven times
Rather then you husband dear."
He then, by her yellow hair,
He'd 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, will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
He's cast her down in a cabin of
forty locks did hang thereto.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"Come, give my lady of the salt, meat,
And vinegar for her brew,
"Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?"
"You dog, nor yet for you."
Prince down from the mountains came
Where been hunting with his armoured men.
He came unto this fair young
All in the where she is laid.
"A drink, a drink, Heathen" she said.
"Even if it's the muddy well pool."
"Never a drink! Will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He's taken her by her hair,
And tied it to his 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 he's the road.
Her skirt in tatters tore,
Her silken blouse was with blood.
"Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen," she
"For the road it hurts my knee".
"Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?"
"You dog, nor yet for thee."
He shortened and on he flew.
He's her through the briar and thorns.
Young gave a pitiful cry,
And she's had her little babe born.
"Oh how can I me sweet little babe
Seeing as nothing to roll him in?"
He give to her his saddle
"That'll him from cheek to chin".
As she took the from his hand
down her cheeks they trickling run.
"Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?".
"You dog, nor yet for you."
"I'm for me own little son;
Your too rough to roll him in,
and alas, the day I rue
That ever I met such as you!"
He "Go wash my baby in the milk,
And dress my in the silk;
When are breaking, hands 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 return again
And be bride forevermore".
#104
A. L. Lloyd this ancient Child ballad. The
chilling tension of the stems from the juxtaposition be-
stark physical brutality and psychological complexity.
Recorded by Frankie
PRINHEAT
SF
===DOCUMENT