Luyện nghe bài hát My Youngest Son

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

[Originally by Eric

It's an 800 never ending war
causes grief, sorrow, suffering and pain - and glory.
But for who?
My son came home today
His marched with him all the way
The flutes and drums out the time
As in his box of polished
Like dead meat on a butcher's
My son came home today.
My youngest son was a young man
With a wife and a and a son
As a man he would lived and died
Till by bullet sanctified
Now he's a or so they say
They brought their saint today.
Above the Belfast streets
An Irish sky looks down and
On childrens' blood in gutters
For dreams of freedom
As part of price to pay
My youngest son home today.
My son came home today
His friends marched him all the way
The flutes and beat out the time
As in his box of polished
Like dead on a butcher's tray
My youngest son home today
But this time home to stay.