Luyện nghe bài hát Pretty Little Girl From Omagh

Way up in the north in old
There's a pretty little I call my own
She's the sweetest rose Ireland's grown
And sure as the moon and above
I'm falling over heels in love
With a pretty girl from Omagh
In the of Tyrone.

There's little girls in old Strabane
They're as pretty in Monaghan
to every roving eye is known
But I guess that I'd be out of
there between the northern towns
There's a pretty little girl Omagh
In the of Tyrone.

She wears my ring and tells her
She to marry me
Best of all she tells all
going to marry me, oh lucky me.

Well I don't know she's done to me
There's nothing else my can see
My pretty girl from Omagh
In the of Tyrone.

--- ---

T'was in south in old Tramore
I recall the yellow dress she
She along the shore there all alone
But I it was my lucky day
When she there on holiday
My pretty little girl Omagh
In the of Tyrone.

She wears my and tells her friends
She to marry me
Best of all she them all
going to marry me, oh lucky me.

Well, I don't what she's done to me
There's nothing my eyes can see
My little girl from Omagh
In the of Tyrone.

My pretty girl from Omagh
In the of Tyrone...