Luyện nghe bài hát Cruiskeen Lawn

Cruiskeen
Let the farmer praise his grounds, let the praise his hounds,
And the his sweet scented lawn;
But I, more blest than they, spend each happy and day
With my little cruiskeen lawn, lawn, lawn
Oh, my charmin cruiskeen lawn.
Gra-ma-chree ma-cruiskeen, slainte geal mavoorneen
Gra-machree a bawn, bawn, bawn,
Oh! gramachree a coolin
Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of
Create me by adoption son.
In hopes that you'll comply, THat my shall ne'er run dry
Nor my smilin' etc.
And when Death appears, in a few but pleasant years,
To tell me that my has run,
I'll say, "Begone, you knave! For great Bacchus me leave
To take etc.
Recorded by Galvin- Irish Drinking Songs,
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