Swete Sonne lyrics by The Mediæval Bæbes

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Swete Sonne by The Mediæval Bæbesالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Swete Sonne by The Mediæval Bæbes

Swete sone, reu on me
And breste out of thy bondes
For me thinket that I see
Thoru Bothen thin bondes
Nailes driven into the tree
So reufuliche thu honges
Now is betre that I flee
And lett alle these londes

Swete sone, thy faire face
Droppet all on blode
And thy body downward
Is bounded to the rode
How may thy modress hert
Tholen so swete fode
That blessed was of alle born
And best of alle gode

How may thy modress hert
Tholen so swete fode
That blessed was of alle born
And best of alle gode

Swete sone, reu on me
And bring me out of this live
For me thinket that I see
Thy deth, it neyhet swithe
Thy feet nailed to the tree
Now may I no more thrive
For this werld withouten thee
Ne shall me maken blithe

Writer : KATHARINE BLAKE
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group