Luyện nghe bài hát Green Fields Of France

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

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

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

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

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

Now Willy McBride, I help wondering why
Do those who lie know why they died.
Did they really believe when they the cause,
Did they really believe that this war would end

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 play the flowers of the