Luyện nghe bài hát John O'Reilly

My is John O'Reilly and my father worked the fields
In the hills of old where I helped him turn the wheels
My arms grew hard as for a boy of 17
And I used my fists for in those wet Kilarny streets

the ship left for America and I brought my pack aboard
Said goodbye to my Ireland said a prayer to my dear Lord
But I fought those sorry in the kitchen they called hell
Well I fought them for their and those guineas paid me well

Fair thee well dover
Fair thee well your seasons
For my will be jingling on the day of my return
The day of my

Well I fought in New City and I fought the Jersey shore
My gut stayed full of whiskey and my bed stayed of whores
Well they called my right a cannonball and my left called the same
And I left em' all lyin' in blood and half in shame

Well I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his
And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall his man
Well I it could be done but only for another two
And he at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe

Fair thee well fair
Fair thee well seasons turn
For my pockets be jingling on the day of my return
The day of my

Well they the bell two times before I let him have my nose
And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen
I let loose a right that they still talk about today
For that guinea didn't know I had bet the other way

covered every dock and every port there on the coast
Looking for double crosser who had turned into a ghost
But I was on a train my that rode the other way
And I'll sail California back to Dublin one fine day

thee well fair dover
Fair thee your seasons turn
For my pockets will be on the day of my return
The day of my

Fair thee well dover
Fair thee well your seasons
For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my
The day of my