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

I

crone: here upon pillow
of reed and willow
you're a fickle twister
are you on your sister?
phallo won't leave you alone.

and for their pleasure
laid to measure
she's a salty pisser
with your in her kisser
but now a will of her own.

II

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

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

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

husband: and now all the marchers descend from
i will dedicate all of my to this.

and damn all the angles that opress my
i will bleed your through a samovar soon.

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

III

soldier: settled dust in your hair
to you shake and shout it out.
with our bared
we shed our bags and alls.

from the lee of the
he comes in the chang and the
and all his in thrall
can lift his line 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 with
that tear at our like thistle down
the mirror's silver tain
reflects our last and hour

soldier: here com loose his
to me down.

chorus of waifs: 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 your
as you up hillside, forest and fen.

your arms full of lullabies, orchids and
your memories within paper and twine.

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

when the dawn commes to you, you'll rise with clothes on
and advance with the others, singing old
of and maidens and withered old queens.
let the carry you on.

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

V

woman: darling dear what you done?
your clothes are town, your runs.

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

woman: darling dear, what hav done?
your hands and face are with blood.

the chaplain came and called me out
to beat and to butcher his sow

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

but hush now darling, you cry.
your in the sweet by-and -by.
hush now baby, you cry.
reward's in the sweet by-and-by.

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