Luyện nghe bài hát Green Fields Of France

Well how do you do, young McBride,
Do you if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while the warm summer sun,
I've walking all day and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone you only 19,
You joined the great in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick, and I hope you clean.
McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did beat the drums slowly,
Did they play the lowly?
Did they sound a march as they lowered you down?
Did the play the last post and chorus?
Did the play the flowers of the forest?

Did you a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In some faithful heart, is memory in shrine?
And though you back in 1916,
In that faithful heart, you're 19.

Or are you a without even a name,
forever behind a glass pane.
In an old photograph, and battered and stained,
And to yellow in a brown yellow frame.

Now Willy McBride, I can't help why
Do those who lie here why they died.
Did really believe when they answered the cause,
Did they really believe this war would end wars?

But the sorrow, the sufferin', the glory, the
The killing and dying were all in vain.
But, McBride, it all happened again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

Did the pipes play the flowers of the