Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Teresa Brayton

My are here on Broadway
This harvest morn,
But oh! the thats in my heart
For the spot I was born.
My weary are blistered
Through in cold and heat!
And oh! to swing a scythe once
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 and restless
My was ill at ease,
dreaming of America,
And the gold the seas.
Oh, rake their money,
Tis hard to the same,
And the world to any man
If no one his name.
Ive had my day and I am
A-building per load.
A long thousand miles away
the Old Bog Road.

My died last springtime,
When Erins fields green.
The said her waking
Was the ever seen.
There were and primroses
Piled high her bed,
And Ferns Church was
When her funeral was read.
And here was I on
A-building per load.
When carried out her coffin
the old Bog Road.

There was a girl at home
Who to walk with me.
Her eyes were and sorrowful
Like oer the sea.
Her name was Dwyer,
But that was ago.
The of God are wiser
Than the that man might know.
She the day I left her,
A-building per load,
Id best forget the Ive spent
On the old Bog Road.

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