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 'neath the summer sun,
I've been walking all day and I'm done.

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

Did beat the drums slowly,
Did they play the fife
Did they sound a death march as 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 heart, is your memory in shrine?
And though you died in 1916,
In that heart, you're forever 19.

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

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

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

Did the play the flowers of the forest?