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

I

crone: here upon pillow
made of reed and
a fickle little twister
are you sweet on your
phallo won't leave you alone.

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

II

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

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

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

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

and all the angles that opress my sight
i will your heart through a samovar soon.

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

III

soldier: they settled dust in hair
to watch you shake and 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 this stretch of
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

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

soldier: here com his hounds
to me down.

of waifs: blow me down.

soldier: on this stretch of
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

IV

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

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

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

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

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

V

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

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

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

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

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

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

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