Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Road: Teresa

My feet are on Broadway
blessed harvest morn,
But oh! the ache thats in my
For the where I was born.
My weary are blistered
work in cold and heat!
And oh! to swing a once more
Through a of Irish wheat.
Had I the chance to back,
Or own a abode.
Id sooner see the tree
By the Old Bog Road.

When I was young and
My was ill at ease,
Through of America,
And the gold the seas.
Oh, sorrow their money,
Tis hard to the same,
And whats the to any man
If no one his name.
Ive had my day and I am
bricks per load.
A long thousand miles away
the Old Bog Road.

My died last springtime,
When fields were green.
The neighbours said her
Was the finest seen.
There were snowdrops and
Piled high her bed,
And Ferns was crowded
When her funeral was read.
And was I on Broadway
bricks per load.
When they out her coffin
the old Bog Road.

There was a decent girl at
Who to walk with me.
Her eyes were soft and
moonlight oer the sea.
Her was Mary Dwyer,
But was long ago.
The ways of God are
Than the that man might know.
She the day I left her,
A-building per load,
Id best the days Ive spent
On the old Bog Road.

Ah! a weary puzzle,
finding out by man,
Ill take the day for its worth
And do the I can.
Since no one a rush for me
need is there to moan,
Ill go my way and my pay
And my pipe alone.
human heart must bear its grief
Though bitter be the
So God be you, Ireland,
And the Old Bog Road.