Luyện nghe bài hát Birmingham Sunday

Come round by my side and sing you a song
I'll sing it so softly, do no one wrong
On Birmingham the blood ran like wine
And the choirs singing of freedom

That cold morning no eyes saw the sun
And Mae Collins, her number was one
At an old Baptist there was no need to run
And the choirs kept of freedom

The they were grey and the autumn wind blew
And Denise McNair the number to two
The falcon of death was a creature knew
And the choirs kept singing of

The church it was crowded, but no one see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark was three
Her and her feelings would shame you and me
And the choirs kept of freedom

Young Carol entered the door
And the number her killers had given was
She asked for a blessing but asked for no
And the choirs singing of freedom

On Sunday a noise shook the ground
And people all the earth turned around
For no one recalled a cowardly sound
And the choirs kept of freedom

The men in the forest once asked of me
How many black berries in the Blue Sea
I asked them right with a tear in my eye
How many dark in the forest?

The has come and the Sunday has gone
And I can't do much than to sing you a song
sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep of freedom