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 many ago,
The of this fair city
All at the show.

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

The cheer him wildly,
to their feet,
And Lincoln of his hand,
He takes his seat.

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

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

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

He holds a in his right hand,
A in his left,
He shoots poor 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.

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

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

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

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

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