Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Road: Teresa

My are here on Broadway
This harvest morn,
But oh! the ache in my heart
For the spot I was born.
My hands are blistered
Through in cold and heat!
And oh! to a scythe once more
Through a field of wheat.
Had I the chance to back,
Or own a abode.
Id see the hawthorn tree
By the Old Bog Road.

When I was and restless
My was ill at ease,
dreaming of America,
And the beyond 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 three thousand away
the Old Bog Road.

My mother died springtime,
When Erins fields green.
The neighbours her waking
Was the ever seen.
were snowdrops and primroses
Piled above her bed,
And Ferns Church was
her funeral Mass was read.
And here was I on
bricks per load.
When carried out her coffin
the old Bog Road.

There was a decent girl at
Who to walk with me.
Her were soft and sorrowful
moonlight oer the sea.
Her name was Dwyer,
But that was ago.
The of God are wiser
Than the things that man know.
She the day I left her,
bricks per load,
Id best forget the 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 cares a for me
need is there to moan,
Ill go my way and my pay
And smoke my alone.
Each human must bear its grief
Though bitter be the
So God be you, Ireland,
And the Old Bog Road.