Luyện nghe bài hát Greenfields of France

Well, how do you do, William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here by your graveside?
And for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you only 19
When you the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the lowly?
Did the rifles fir you as they lowered you down?
Did the sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes the Flowers of the Forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart
In some loyal is your memory enshrined?
And, though you back in 1916,
To loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger even a name,
enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and and stained,

And fading to in a brown leather frame?

The sun's shining down on green fields of France;
The warm blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no firing now.
But here in this graveyard that's still No Land
The white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind to his fellow man.
And a whole who were butchered and damned.

And I help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they
Did you really believe them when they you "The Cause?"
Did you really that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the
The killing, the dying, it was all in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.