Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Teresa Brayton

My feet are here on
This harvest morn,
But oh! the ache in my heart
For the spot I was born.
My weary hands are
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 hawthorn
By the Old Bog Road.

When I was and restless
My was ill at ease,
dreaming 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
A-building per load.
A long three miles away
the Old Bog Road.

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

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

Ah! Lifes a 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 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.