Luyện nghe bài hát Five Carlins

Five
(Robert Burns)
There was carlins in the South,
They fell a scheme,
To a lad to London town,
To bring tidings hame.
Not only bring them hame,
But do errands there;
And aiblins gowd and baith
be that laddie's share.
There was Maggie by the o Nith,
A dame wi eneugh;
And o' the Monie Lochs,
A carlin and teugh.
And Bess of Annandale,
That dwelt near
And Jean, that took her gill,
In sae wide.
And Black Joan, Crichton-Peel,
0' gipsy an kin:
Five wighter were na found
The countrie within.
To a lad to London town,
met upon a day;
And a knight, and monie a laird,
errand fain wad gae.
0, monie a knight, and a laird,
This errand ain wad
But nae ane could fancy please,
0, a ane but tway!
The ane was a belted Knight,
of a Border band;
And he wad gae to Town,
nae man him withstand.
And he wad do their weel,
And he wad say;
And ilka ane at court
Wad bid to him Guid-day.
The neist cam in a Soger
And spak wi' grace;
And he wad to London Town,
If sae pleasure was
He wad na them courtly gifts,
Nor meikle speech
But he wad an honest heart
Wad ne'er his friend.-
Now wham to chuse, and refuse,
At strife Carlins fell;
For some had Gentle to please,
And wad please themsel.-
Then up mim-mou'd Meg o'Nith,
And she up wi'pride,
And she wad the Sodger-lad
might betide.-
For the Gudeman o'London Court,
She didna care a
But she wad the Sodger-lad,
To his eldest son.-
Then started of Annandale,
A deadly she's taen,
That she wad the Border-knight,
Tho' she should her lane.-
far-off fowls hae feathers fair,
'And fools o' are fain;
I hae try'd this Border-knight,
try him yet again.
Says Jan frae Crighton-peel,
A stoor and grim;
"The Auld Gudeman, or the Gudeman,
For me may or swim."
"For fools will prate o' and Wrang,
knaves laugh them to scorn;
But the Solder's hae blawn the best,
So he bear the horn."
Then Brandy Jean spak her drink,
Ye weel ken, a',
The Auld Gudeman o'. Court,
His back's been at the
And mony a friend kiss'd his caup,
Is now a wight;
But it's be sae wi' Brandy Jean,
We'll the Border-knight.'
Then slaw Marjory o' the lochs,
And was her brow;
Her ancient was russet-grey,
Her Scots heart was true.-
There's Great Folk set light by me,
I set as light by
But I will send to London
Whom I best at hame.'-
So how this plea may end,
Nae mortal wight can
God the king, and ilka man,
May look to themsel.-
Chevy Chase (269)
FIVECRLN
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