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

I

crone: here upon this
made of reed and
you're a fickle little
are you sweet on sister?
your phallo leave you alone.

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

II

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

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

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

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

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

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

III

soldier: they settled in your hair
to you shake and shout it out.
with our armaments
we our bags and travel alls.

the lee of the wall
he comes in the and the chariot
and all his eunuchs in
can lift his line and lariat.

com loose his hounds
to me down.

chorus of waifs: me down.

soldier: on stretch 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 soft silver
our last and birthing hour

soldier: 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.

IV

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

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

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

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

the room that you lie in is and hard
sleeping soft babies on of yards
of gingham, taffeta, and silk
your dry hungry mouths cry for your 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 when you whistled me on.

darling dear, what hav eyou done?
your and face are smeared with blood.

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

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

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

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