Luyện nghe bài hát The Lass O Ballochmyle

The Lass O'
(Robert Burns)
even: the dewy fields were green,
On blade the pearls hang,
The zeghyr round the bean,
An bore its sweets alang,
In ev'ry the mavis sang,
AII list'ning seem'd the while,
Except where greenwood rang,
the braes o Ballochmyle.
With step I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoic'd in joy,
When, musing in a glade,
A fair I chanc'd to spy.
Her look was the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's smile.
whisper'd, passing by:-
'Behold the o Ballochmyle!'
is the morn in flowery May
And sweet is night in mild,
When roving the garden gay,
Or in the lonely wild;
But woman, darling child -
There all her charms she does -
there her other works are foil'd
By the lass o Ballochmyle.
0, had she a country maid,
And I the happy swain,
Tho shelter'd in the shed
That rose on Scotia's plain!
Thro weary winter's wind and
joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom
The lass o Ballochmyle!
Then Pride climb the slipp'ry steep,
Where fame and honours lofty
And thirst of gold tempt the deep,
Or seek the Indian mine!
me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or the soil;
And ev'ry day have joys
the bonie lass o Ballochmyle.
Tune: Ettrick (89)
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