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 for a while 'neath the warm summer sun,
I've been all day and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone you were 19,
You joined the fallin' in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick, and I you died clean.
Willy McBride, was it and obscene?

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

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

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

Now Willy McBride, I can't help why
Do those who lie know why they died.
Did they really believe when they 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, Willy McBride, it all again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

Did the pipes the flowers of the forest?