Luyện nghe bài hát Patrick Sheehan

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

My father died; I closed his eyes, the cabin door;
For the and the sheriff too, were there the day before,
And then my mother, and my sisters three, also,
Were forced to go with broken hearts, from the of Aherlow

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

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

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

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

A neglected mendicant, I wander Dublin's streets
My nine months' pension it 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 Irish youths, dear countrymen, take heed in I say;
For if you join the English ranks, surely rue the day
And whenever you're tempted, to go.
Remember poor Sheehan from the Glen of Aherlow.