Luyện nghe bài hát Biddy Mulligan The Pride Of The Coombe

Biddy Mulligan, The of the Coombe

You may travel from Clare to the Kildare
From Francis Street to the Coombe;
But where would you see a fine widow me?
Mulligan the pride of the Coombe, me boys,
Biddy Mulligan the of the Coombe.
I'm a buxom fine widow, I in a spot
In Dublin, call it the Coombe.
Me shops and me stalls are out on the street,
And me palace of one room.
I apples and oranges, nuts and sweet peas,
and sugar stick sweet.
On a Saturday night I sell clothes,
From the floor of me in the street.

I sell on a Friday, spread out on a board;
The finest you'll in the sea.
But the best is my herrings, Dublin Bay herrings,
There's for dinner and tea.
I a son, Mick, he's great on the flute,
He plays in the Longford Street
It would do your good for to see him march out
On a for Dollymount Strand.

In the park, on a Sunday, I quite a dash;
The neighbors on in surprise.
With my Aberdeen shawlie thrown my head,
I the sight of their eyes.
At Street corner, for sixty-four years,
stood, and no one can deny
That while I there, nobody could dare
To say was the white of my eye.

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