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 little
are you sweet on your
your phallo leave you alone.

and granted for their
possesions laid to
a salty little pisser
with cock in her kisser
but now she's a of her own.

II

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

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

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

and now all the marchers descend from high
i will all of my awakenings to this.

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

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

III

soldier: they settled dust in your
to watch you and shout it out.
with our armaments
we shed our and travel alls.

the lee of the wall
he comes in the chang and the
and all his in thrall
can scarce lift his and lariat.

here com his hounds
to me down.

of waifs: blow me down.

soldier: on stretch of ground
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

chaplain: and now with pangs
that tear at our backs like thistle
the soft silver tain
our last and birthing hour

soldier: com loose his hounds
to me down.

chorus of blow me down.

on this stretch 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
memories wrapped within paper and twine.

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

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

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

V

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

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

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

daughter: the chaplain and called me out
to beat and to butcher his sow

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

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

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