Luyện nghe bài hát Bitter Withy

BITTER
As it fell out on a holiday
Small from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus of his own mother dear
Whether he play at ball
To play, to play, dear she did say
It's time that you have been
And don't let me hear about you
At when you do come home
Now our Savior walked down into town
As far as the holy, holy
And he met three of the finest children
That ever any tongue could
morn, good morn, good morn, said they
Good morning, then said he, he
Now of you three fine children
Will at ball with 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 the beams of the sun
and the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children followed him
And drowned they all three
The ball and the downward ball
mothers they did wail and squall
Saying, Mary mild, home your child
For ours are all
Then Mary mild a handful of withies
And our dear savior across her knee
And with handful of withy twigs
She gave him slashes
Oh cursed be to the bitter
has caused me to smart, to smart
And shall be the very first tree
That shall perish at the heart
recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Ballads; Roberts &
Barrand - Nowell We Clear
BITWITHY
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