Luyện nghe bài hát Booth Shot Lincoln

John Booth 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 city
All at the show.

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

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

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

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

John Wilkes he moves down the aisle,
He had measured before,
He passes bodyguard
at the door.

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

The wife awakes slumber,
And in her rage,
Booth jumps 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 sake, save that man!"

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

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

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