Luyện nghe bài hát The Dancing of the Lord of Weir

By Robin

Robin Williamson: Chanter, bironne, chinese flute, jew's harp, bazooki, and vocal.

In the third of the year
men begin to gather fuel against the
coming
hear hoover ring hard on ground
begins our

for centuries we alone high on the moors
herding the deer for and cheese for leather
and
humans came nigh
for we our spells held them at bay
and they with gifts of wine and did
us

returning at evening from the great
out red hoods ring with bells we run
before our own green hill
there we did

she is
she is away
watery meads straying our lovely

she of the wild
she of the wild
snatched up to the saddle of the lord of
who has his high upon a crag
a away

the horse of air at once we rode
to where castle lifts like a crippled claw
the moon
and taking form of brightly clad
we paced white ponies to the gate
and rang
"we come to sing unto my lord of
a song."

into his sorry we stepped
where was our daughter near his chair
"come a measure!"
"sir at we will!"
and we to sing and play
to lightly dance in and faster turn
no man within hall could keep his seat
but needs must dance and
his will

this was the way we them to the door
and them on their way into the world
where they will leap
till they one kind thought
for all I they may be dancing still

we returned with our own
into our
and in
made
the door.