《At Casterbridge Fair by Thomas Hardy》歌词

[00:00:00] At Casterbridge Fair by Thomas Hardy - Richard Burton

[00:00:00] Sing Ballad singer raise a hearty tune

[00:00:04] Make me forget that there was ever a one

[00:00:05] I walked with in the meek light of the moon

[00:00:09] When the day's work was done

[00:00:12] Rhyme Ballad rhymer start a country song

[00:00:15] Make me forget that she whom I loved well

[00:00:17] Swore she would love me dearly love me long

[00:00:20] Then what I cannot tell

[00:00:25] Sing Ballad singer from your little book

[00:00:27] Make me forget those heart breaks achings fears

[00:00:31] Make me forget her name her sweet sweet look

[00:00:35] Make me forget her tears

[00:00:43] These market dames mid aged with lips thin drawn

[00:00:47] And tissues sere

[00:00:49] Are they the ones we loved in years agone

[00:00:52] And courted here

[00:00:55] Are these the muslined pink young things to whom

[00:00:58] We vowed and swore

[00:00:59] In nooks on summer Sundays by the Froom

[00:01:03] Or Budmouth shore

[00:01:06] Do they remember those gay tunes we trod

[00:01:09] Clasped on the green

[00:01:11] Aye trod till moonlight set on the beaten sod

[00:01:13] A satin sheen

[00:01:16] They must forget forget

[00:01:19] They cannot know

[00:01:20] What once they were

[00:01:22] Or memory would transfigure them and show

[00:01:24] Them always fair

[00:01:32] Black on frowns east on Maidon

[00:01:35] And westward to the sea

[00:01:37] But on neither is his frown laden

[00:01:39] With scorn as his frown on me

[00:01:42] At dawn my heart grew heavy

[00:01:44] I could not sip the wine

[00:01:46] I left the jocund bevy

[00:01:48] And that young man of mine

[00:01:51] The roadside elms pass by me

[00:01:55] Why do I sink with shame

[00:01:56] When the birds a perch there eye me

[00:02:00] They too have done the same

[00:02:07] Nobody took any notice of her

[00:02:09] As she stood on the causey kerb

[00:02:12] All eager to sell her honey and apples

[00:02:14] And bunches of garden herb

[00:02:16] And if she had offered to give her wares

[00:02:18] And herself with them too that day

[00:02:21] I doubt if a soul would have cared to

[00:02:23] Take a bargain so choice away

[00:02:27] But chancing to trace her sunburnt grace

[00:02:29] That morning as I passed nigh

[00:02:32] I went and I said Poor maidy dear

[00:02:36] And will none of the people buy

[00:02:39] And so it began; and soon we knew

[00:02:41] What the end of it all must be

[00:02:44] And I found that though no others had bid

[00:02:47] A prize had been won by me

[00:02:53] And are ye one of Hermitage

[00:02:55] Of Hermitage by Ivel Road

[00:02:58] And do ye know in Hermitage

[00:02:59] A thatch roofed house where sengreens grow

[00:03:03] And does John Waywood live there still

[00:03:05] He of the name that there abode

[00:03:07] When father hurdled on the hill

[00:03:09] Some fifteen years ago

[00:03:12] Does he now speak of Patty Beech

[00:03:13] The Patty Beech he used to see

[00:03:17] Or ask at all if Patty Beech

[00:03:19] Is known or heard of out this way

[00:03:21] Ask ever if she's living yet

[00:03:23] And where her present home may be

[00:03:25] And how she bears life's fag and fret

[00:03:28] After so long a day

[00:03:31] In years agone at Hermitage

[00:03:33] This faded face was counted fair

[00:03:35] None fairer; and at Hermitage

[00:03:37] We swore to wed when he should thrive

[00:03:41] But never a chance had he or I

[00:03:43] And waiting made his wish outwear

[00:03:46] And Time that dooms man's love to die

[00:03:50] Preserves a maid's alive

[00:03:59] The singers are gone from the Cornmarket place

[00:04:02] With their broadsheets of rhymes

[00:04:04] The street rings no longer in treble and bass

[00:04:07] With their skits on the times

[00:04:10] And the Cross lately thronged is a dim naked space

[00:04:13] That but echoes the stammering chimes

[00:04:17] From Clock corner steps

[00:04:18] As each quarter ding dongs

[00:04:20] Away the folk roam

[00:04:22] By the "Hart" and

[00:04:23] Grey's Bridge into byways and drongs

[00:04:26] Or across the ridged loam

[00:04:29] The younger ones shrilling the lately heard songs

[00:04:31] The old saying

[00:04:33] Would we were home

[00:04:36] The shy seeming maiden so mute in the fair

[00:04:38] Now rattles and talks

[00:04:40] And that one who looked the most swaggering there

[00:04:42] Grows sad as she walks

[00:04:45] And she who seemed eaten by cankering care

[00:04:48] In statuesque sturdiness stalks

[00:04:52] And midnight clears High Street of all but the ghosts

[00:04:55] Of its buried burghees

[00:04:57] From the latest far back to those old Roman hosts

[00:05:00] Whose remains one yet sees

[00:05:03] Who loved laughed and fought

[00:05:06] Hailed their friends drank their toasts

[00:05:08] At their meeting times here just as these