Luyện nghe bài hát The Lass O Ballochmyle

The Lass O'
(Robert Burns)
'Twas the dewy fields were green,
On every the pearls hang,
The zeghyr round the bean,
An its fragrant sweets alang,
In ev'ry glen the sang,
AII Nature list'ning the while,
Except where echoes rang,
the braes o Ballochmyle.
With step I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoic'd in joy,
When, in a lonely glade,
A fair I chanc'd to spy.
Her look was the morning's eye,
Her air Nature's vernal smile.
Perfection whisper'd, by:-
the lass o Ballochmyle!'
Fair is the morn in May
And sweet is in autumn mild,
When roving thro the gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely
But woman, Nature's darling -
There all her charms she does -
Even her other works are foil'd
By the bonie o Ballochmyle.
0, had she a country maid,
And I the happy swain,
Tho shelter'd in the shed
That ever rose on plain!
weary winter's wind and rain
With joy, rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my strain
The lass o Ballochmyle!
Then Pride might climb the steep,
Where fame and lofty shine;
And of gold might tempt the deep,
Or seek the Indian mine!
me the cot below the pine,
To the flocks or till the soil;
And ev'ry day have divine
With the bonie o Ballochmyle.
Ettrick Banks (89)
filename[
play.exe
ARB
===DOCUMENT