Luyện nghe bài hát The Tain (Parts I, II, III, IV, V)

I

crone: here upon this
made of and willow
you're a fickle twister
are you sweet on sister?
phallo won't leave you alone.

and granted for pleasure
possesions to measure
a salty little pisser
with your in her kisser
but now a will of her own.

II

husband: damn your and eyes wide
from you to your ponytails too.
king of the and the m-5
over charlemagne in a too.

and needs a new prize
baby a new and shiny prize.

captain: in this called heavenly
you born here.
this called heavenly
you born here.
you were here.

husband: and now all the marchers from high
i dedicate all of my awakenings to this.

and damn all the angles opress my sight
i will bleed heart through a samovar soon.

in this place called heavenly
you born here.
this place heavenly
you born here.
you born here.

III

soldier: they settled dust in hair
to watch you and shout it out.
our armaments bared
we our bags and travel alls.

from the lee of the
he comes in the and the chariot
and all his eunuchs in
can scarce lift his and lariat.

com loose his hounds
to me down.

of waifs: blow me down.

soldier: on this of ground
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

chaplain: and now stricken pangs
that tear at our backs like thistle
the mirror's soft silver
reflects our last and birthing

soldier: com loose his hounds
to me down.

chorus of blow me down.

soldier: on this of ground
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

IV

widow: o the wind is blowing, it hurts skin
as you up hillside, forest and fen.

your full of lullabies, orchids and wine
your memories wrapped paper and twine.

the room you lie in is dusty and hard
soft babies on piles of yards
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and
your dry hungry mouths cry for mother's milk.

the dawn commes to greet you, you'll rise with clothes on
and advance with the others, old songs
of and maidens and withered old queens.
let the music you on.

the room that you lie in is dusty and
sleeping babies on piles of yards
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and
your dry hungry cry for your mother's milk.

V

woman: dear what have you done?
your clothes are town, make-up runs.

i ran through brambles, blooming thistle
i washed my face in the when you whistled me on.

woman: dear, what hav eyou done?
hands and face are smeared with blood.

daughter: the chaplain came and me out
to and to butcher his mother's sow

woman: but darling dear, they found him
morning on the riverbed.

but now darling, don't you cry.
reward's in the sweet by-and -by.
hush now baby, you cry.
your in the sweet by-and-by.

crone: and now we've seen powers
softly the hours
you're a little twister
are you sweet on your
as now you go home.