Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a high
rain from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus asked of his own mother
Whether he might at ball
To play, to play, child she did say
time that you have been gone
And don't let me hear about you
At night you do come home
Now our walked down into yonder town
As far as the holy, holy
And there he met of the finest children
ever any tongue could tell
Good morn, morn, good morn, said they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now which of you fine children
Will play at ball me
Oh we are lords and sons
in a bowery hall
And you are but a child
Born in an stall
Now our savior built a bridge with the of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three children followed after him
And drowned were all three
The upward ball and the ball
Their mothers they did and squall
Saying, Mary mild, fetch your child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild a handful of withies
And our dear savior across her knee
And with that handful of twigs
She gave him slashes
Oh cursed be to the bitter
That has caused me to smart, to
And that shall be the first tree
That shall right at the heart
by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; Roberts &
Barrand - Sing We Clear
BITWITHY
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