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

I

crone: here this pillow
made of and willow
you're a little twister
are you on your sister?
your phallo won't you alone.

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

II

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

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

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

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

and all the angles that opress my sight
i bleed your heart 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 our bags and travel alls.

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

com loose his hounds
to me down.

chorus of blow me down.

soldier: on this stretch of
lay me down.

chorus of lay me down.

to sleep.

chaplain: and now stricken pangs
that tear at our like thistle down
the mirror's soft tain
our last and birthing 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 your skin
as you climb up hillside, and fen.

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

the room that you lie in is 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 greet you, rise with clothes on
and advance with the others, singing old
of cattle and maidens and old queens.
let the carry you on.

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

V

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

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

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

the chaplain came and called me out
to beat and to his mother's sow

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

but now darling, don't 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 the hours
you're a fickle little
are you sweet on your
as now you go home.