Luyện nghe bài hát Booth Shot Lincoln

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

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

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

The people him wildly,
to their feet,
And waving of his hand,
He calmly 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 hangs a flag,
not the Stars and Bars,
The flag holds within its folds
Bright stripes and stars.

Wilkes Booth he moves down the aisle,
He had once before,
He passes bodyguard
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 life give,
When Booth stood in that stage,
Crying, "Tyrants not live!"

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

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

John Booth, in his last play,
All in broadcloth deep,
He gallops the alleyway,
I hear those feet.

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