Luyện nghe bài hát Black 47

Everything is not a chicken not a body
Just an awful sicken silence in my brain
And the fog of death deepens and lies the land
An wan rolls over on her back
The grass still green upon her chin
I can still hear her keenin' and in the wind

God's upon you, Lord John Russell
May your black soul rot in hell
There's no left on earth and God is dead in heaven
In these dark and days of Black 47

curse upon you, Lord Trevalian
May great Queen Victoria rot in hell
'Til and its empire answer before heaven
For the they committed in Black 47

says "Come on now
Don't back, she's not livin', she's a phantom
And she'll curse us if we look her eyes"

Oh God, I think I'm the fever's in my brain
For can't you see that pack of up ahead?
The beards of old men sproutin' their chins
Can't you their screams of hunger on the wind?

God's curse you, Lord John Russell
May your black hearted rot in hell
There's no love left on and God is dead in heaven
In dark and deadly days of Black 47

God's curse upon you, Lord
May your great Queen Victoria rot in
'Til England and its empire answer under
For the they committed in Black 47

Darlin' save me, I think I'm sinkin' fast, me blood is boilin'
Don't let me die in a ditch
If the hunger doesn't get me the fever surely

Paudie took me up and threw me across his
He nursed me day 'til we reached Amerikay
and shoutin' like two madmen at the wind

God's curse upon you, Lord Russell
May black hearted soul rot in hell
There's no love on earth, God is dead in heaven
In the and deadly days of Black 47

curse upon you, Lord Trevalian
May your great Queen rot in hell
'Til and its empire answer under heaven
For the crimes they committed in 47