Luyện nghe bài hát Booth Shot Lincoln

John Wilkes came to Washington,
An great was he,
He at Ford's Theater,
And went to see.

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

The war it is all over,
The happy now,
And Abraham arose,
to make his bow;

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

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

From the box there a flag,
not the Stars and Bars,
The flag that holds within its
Bright stripes and stars.

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

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

The wife from slumber,
And in her rage,
Booth jumps over the
And him on the stage.

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

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

Booth ran back with boot and spurs
Across the floor,
He mounts that trusty bank mare,
All at the door.

John Booth, in his last play,
All dressed in deep,
He down the alleyway,
I those horses feet.

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