Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a holiday
Small from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus asked of his own mother
Whether he play at ball
To play, to play, child she did say
It's time that you have been
And don't let me hear complaints you
At when you do come home
Now our Savior walked into yonder town
As far as the holy, well
And there he met of the finest children
That ever any could tell
morn, good morn, good morn, said they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you fine children
Will play at with me
Oh we are lords and sons
Born in a hall
And you are but a maiden's
Born in an oxen
Now our savior built a bridge the beams of the sun
and over the ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children followed him
And they were all three
The ball and the downward ball
Their they did wail and squall
Saying, Mary mild, home your child
For ours are all
Then mild picked a handful of withies
And laid our dear across her knee
And with that handful of twigs
She gave him three
Oh be to the bitter withy
That has caused me to smart, to
And that be the very first tree
That shall right at the heart
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Ballads; Roberts &
- Nowell Sing We Clear
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