Luyện nghe bài hát Patrick Sheehan

My name is 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 days we spent in the Glen of Aherlow.

My father died; I closed his eyes, outside the 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 broken hearts, from the Glen of Aherlow

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

of home and kith and kin, with plenty all around,
I starved within my cabin, and upon the ground;
But cruel as my lot was, I did hardship know,
I joined the English army, far away from Aherlow.

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

I tried to my musket, how dark I thought the night!
O God! It wasn't dark, it was the broad daylight!
And I found that 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 streets
My nine months' pension it being out, I beg all I meet;
As I joined my country's tyrants, my I can never show,
Amongst my dear old in the Glen of Aherlow.

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