Luyện nghe bài hát Patrick Sheehan

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

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

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

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

"Rouse up there," the corporal, "Ya lazy Irish hound!
Why don't you hear the bugle, its to arms to sound? "
I found I had dreaming of the days long, long ago,
And I woke upon Sebastopol, and not in

I tried to my musket, how dark I thought the night!
O blessed God! It wasn't dark, it was the daylight!
And when I found I was blind, my tears began to flow,
And I longed for even a pauper's grave in the of Aherlow.

A poor neglected mendicant, I wander Dublin's
My nine months' it being out, I beg from all I meet;
As I joined my country's tyrants, my face I can show,
Amongst my old neighbors in the Glen of Aherlow.

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