Luyện nghe bài hát Roddy McCorley

O see the host of men,
Who march faces drawn,
From and from fishers' cot,
Along the of Ban;
They come with vengeance in eyes.
Too late! Too are they,
For young Roddy goes to die
On the bridge of today.

Up the street he stepped,
So smiling, and young.
About the on his neck,
The golden clung;
There's ne'er a in his blue eyes,
Fearless and are they,
As Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of today.

When last this narrow he trod,
His shining pike in
Behind him marched, in array,
A stalwart band.
To town! To Antrim town,
He led to the fray,
But young Roddy goes to die
On the of Toome today.

There's never a one of all your
More died in fray
Than he who marches to his
In Toomebridge today; ray
True to the last! to the last,
He the upwards way,
And young Roddy goes to die
On the of Toome today.