Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Road: Teresa

My are here on Broadway
This blessed morn,
But oh! the thats in my heart
For the where I was born.
My weary hands are
work in cold and heat!
And oh! to swing a scythe once
Through a field of wheat.
Had I the to wander back,
Or own a abode.
Id sooner see the tree
By the Old Bog Road.

I was young and restless
My was ill at ease,
dreaming of America,
And the gold the seas.
Oh, rake their money,
Tis to find the same,
And whats the to any man
If no one his name.
Ive had my day and I am
A-building per load.
A long three miles away
the Old Bog Road.

My mother last springtime,
When Erins fields green.
The said her waking
Was the ever seen.
were snowdrops and primroses
Piled high her bed,
And Ferns was crowded
her funeral Mass was read.
And was I on Broadway
bricks per load.
When they out her coffin
the old Bog Road.

There was a decent at home
Who used to walk me.
Her eyes soft and sorrowful
Like oer the sea.
Her name was Dwyer,
But was long ago.
The of God are wiser
Than the things man might know.
She died the day I her,
bricks per load,
Id forget the days Ive spent
On the old Bog Road.

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