Текст песни Rebecca Pidgeon - The Twa Corbies
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На этой странице находится текст песни Rebecca Pidgeon - The Twa Corbies, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.
Три ворона (англ. The Three Ravens) — народная баллада, напечатанная в песеннике Melismata, и опубликованная в 1611 году, но, возможно, существовавшая и ранее. Известны более новые варианты (с другой мелодией) вплоть до XIX века.
The Twa Corbies
В этом произведении только две птицы, но это — самое незначительное различие между песнями, хотя и с похожими началами.
Полный текст одного из вариантов:
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s ta’en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
'Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We’ll, theek our nest when it grows bare.
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they we bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'
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Three Crow ( Eng. The Three Ravens) - folk ballad , printed in the songbook Melismata, and published in 1611 , but may have existed previously. Known newer versions (with another melody ) until the XIX century.
The Twa Corbies
In this work, only two birds , but it is - the smallest difference between the songs , though with similar principles.
Full text of one of the options:
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll, theek our nest when it grows bare.
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they we bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair. '
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