Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Road: Teresa

My feet are 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 once more
a field 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, 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 thousand miles away
the Old Bog Road.

My mother died springtime,
Erins fields were green.
The said her waking
Was the finest seen.
were snowdrops and primroses
Piled high her bed,
And Church was crowded
When her funeral was read.
And here was I on
bricks per load.
When they carried out her
the old Bog Road.

There was a girl at home
Who used to with me.
Her were soft and sorrowful
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,
bricks 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 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 smoke my alone.
Each human heart must bear its
Though be the bode
So God be you, Ireland,
And the Old Bog Road.