Luyện nghe bài hát Booth Shot Lincoln

John Wilkes Booth to Washington,
An actor was he,
He played at Theater,
And went to see.

It was in April,
Not weeks ago,
The people of this city
All at the show.

The war it is all over,
The people now,
And Lincoln arose,
Arose to his bow;

The people him wildly,
Arising to feet,
And Lincoln of his hand,
He calmly his seat.

And while he sees the go on,
His are running deep,
His darling wife, by his side,
Has fast asleep.

From the box hangs a flag,
It's not the and Bars,
The flag holds within its folds
Bright stripes and stars.

John Wilkes Booth he moves the aisle,
He had once before,
He passes Lincoln's
at the door.

He a dagger in his right hand,
A in his left,
He shoots Lincoln in the temple,
And he sends his to rest.

The awakes from slumber,
And in her rage,
Booth over the railing
And him on the stage.

He'll rue the day, rue the hour,
As God him shall give,
When Booth in that center stage,
Crying, "Tyrants not live!"

The people all
Then everyone, "A hand!"
Cried all the near,
"For God's sake, save man!"

Then ran back with boot and spurs
the backstage floor,
He mounts that trusty clay mare,
All at the door.

John Wilkes Booth, in his play,
All dressed in deep,
He gallops the alleyway,
I hear horses feet.

Lincoln then was heard to say,
And all has to rest,
"Of all the in this town,
I loved the best."