Luyện nghe bài hát Green Fields Of France

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

I see by your gravestone you only 19,
You the great 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 they play the fife
Did they sound a march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the 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, forever 19.

Or are you a stranger even a name,
Enclosed behind a glass pane.
In an old photograph, and battered and stained,
And faded to yellow in a yellow frame.

Now Willy McBride, I can't wondering why
Do those who lie here know why died.
Did they really when they answered the cause,
Did really believe that 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 play the flowers of the forest?