Luyện nghe bài hát Song Of The Times

You working men of England, one now attend
While I the treatment of the poor upon this land
For nowadays the factory lords have the labor low
And daily are contriving plans to our overthrow

So arouse you sons of freedom, the world seems upside
They scorn the poor man as a thief in and in town

There's different parts in Ireland, it's true what I do
There's hundreds that are starving for they can't get to eat
And if go unto the rich to ask them for relief
They bang their door all in their face as if they were a

So arouse you sons of freedom the seems upside down
They scorn the poor man as a thief in and in town

Alas how altered are the times, rich men the poor
And pay them off without remorse scornful at their door
And if a man is out of work, his pay is small
Enough to himself and wife, his children and all

So arouse you sons of freedom the seems upside down
They scorn the poor man as a thief in and in town

So to conclude and finish few verses I have made
I hope to see before long men for their labor paid
Then we'll rejoice with heart and voice and banish all our
Before we do old England must pay us what she

So arouse you of freedom the world seems upside down
They scorn the poor man as a in country and in town