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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

You see work boots in my hands, they'll probably fit ye now my son,
Take them, they're a gift from me, why you try them on?
It would do old man good to see you walking in these boots one day,
And take place among the men who work upon the slipway.

dead man's boots, though they're old and curled,
When a needs a job and a place in the world,
And it's time for a man to put roots,
And walk to the river in his old boots.

He said, "I'm done and asking this, that ye do one final thing for me!
You're barely but a sapling, and you that you're a tree.
If ye need a seed to prosper, ye must first put down roots.
one foot then the other in these dead man's boots."

These dead man's boots know their way the hill,
They could there themselves, and they probably will.
There's a place for ye to sink your roots,
And take a walk down the river in these man's boots.

I said, "Why in the Hell would I do that? And why I agree?"
his hand was all that I'd received, as far as I remember.
It's not as if he'd spoiled me with his up to then ye see.
I'd a of me own and I'd quit this place when I came of age September.

These dead man's boots their way down the hill,
They can walk there themselves, and probably will.
I'd plenty of choices, and plenty routes,
And he'd never see me walking in these dead boots.

What was it made him think I'd be happy up like him?
he'd hardly got two halfpennies left, or a broken pot to piss in.
He wanted this same for me, was that his final wish?
He said, "What the are ye gonna do?"
I said, "Anything but this!"

These man's boots know their way down the hill,
They can walk there themselves and most likely will.
But they won't walk with me 'cos I'm off the way,
had it up to here, I'm gonna have my say.
When all got left is that cross on the wall?
I want nothing you, I want nothing at all.
Not a pension, nor a pittance, when your life is through,
Get this your head, I'm nothing like you,
I'm done with all the arguments, be no more dispute,
And ye'll die before ye see me in dead man's boots.