Luyện nghe bài hát Patrick Sheehan

My name is Patrick Sheehan, and my are thirty-four;
Tipperary is my native place, not far Galtymore;
I came of parents, but now they're lying low;
many's the pleasant days we spent in the Glen of Aherlow.

My father died; I closed his eyes, outside the cabin
For the landlord and the sheriff too, were the day before,
And then my lovin' mother, and my three, also,
Were forced to go broken hearts, from the Glen of Aherlow

For three long months, in search of work, I far and near;
I then went to the poorhouse to see my dear;
The news I heard near my heart, but still in all my woe,
I blessed the friends who made graves in the Glen of Aherlow.

Bereft of home and kith and kin, plenty all around,
I within my cabin, and slept upon the ground;
But as my lot was, I never did hardship know,
I joined the English army, far away from Aherlow.

"Rouse up there," cried the corporal, "Ya lazy hound!
Why you hear the bugle, its call to arms to sound? "
I found I had been dreaming of the days long, ago,
And I upon Sebastopol, and not in Aherlow

I tried to find my musket, how I thought the night!
O blessed God! It dark, it was the broad daylight!
And when I found that I was blind, my tears to flow,
And I longed for even a pauper's grave in the of Aherlow.

A poor neglected mendicant, I wander Dublin's
My months' pension it being out, I beg from all I meet;
As I joined my country's tyrants, my I can never show,
my dear old neighbors in the Glen of Aherlow.

So youths, dear countrymen, take heed in what I say;
For if you the English ranks, you'll surely rue the day
And whenever you're tempted, to go.
poor blind Sheehan from the Glen of Aherlow.