Luyện nghe bài hát Booth Shot Lincoln

John Booth 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 fair
All at the show.

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

The cheer him wildly,
Arising to feet,
And waving 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 fast asleep.

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

John Wilkes Booth he down the aisle,
He had measured before,
He Lincoln's bodyguard
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 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
cried everyone, "A hand!"
Cried all the near,
"For sake, save that man!"

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

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

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