Luyện nghe bài hát The Lass O Ballochmyle

The O' Ballochmyle
(Robert Burns)
'Twas the dewy fields were green,
On every the pearls hang,
The wanton'd round the bean,
An bore its fragrant alang,
In ev'ry glen the sang,
AII Nature seem'd the while,
Except greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the 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 like the eye,
Her air like Nature's smile.
Perfection whisper'd, passing
the lass o Ballochmyle!'
Fair is the morn in May
And sweet is night in mild,
When roving thro the gay,
Or wand'ring in the wild;
But woman, Nature's darling -
There all her charms she does -
Even there her other works are
By the bonie o Ballochmyle.
0, had she a country maid,
And I the happy swain,
Tho shelter'd in the lowest
That ever rose on plain!
Thro weary winter's wind and
joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my strain
The lass o Ballochmyle!
Then Pride might climb the steep,
Where and honours lofty shine;
And of gold might tempt the deep,
Or seek the Indian mine!
me the cot below the pine,
To tend the or till the soil;
And day have joys divine
With the bonie o Ballochmyle.
Tune: Ettrick (89)
BALCHMYL
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