Luyện nghe bài hát The Green Fields Of America

Farewell to the groves of and the shamrock
to the girls of old Ireland all 'round
And may their hearts be as merry as ever they could for
As far away o'er the I'm bound

My father is old and my mother's feeble
To leave their own country, it would their heart sore
Oh, the down their cheeks, in great floods they are rolling
To think I must die upon some far and foreign shore

But what matter to me, where my they may lie buried
If in and contentment I can spend my life
The fields of Amerikay, they daily are calling
there I'll find an end to my misery and strife

So up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't bad pay
With no taxes or there to devour up your wages
Across on the fields of Amerikay

The lint dams are and the looms are lying idle
are the winders of baskets and creels
And away the ocean, go journeyman cowboys
And who play out the old mountain reels

Ah, but I mind the time when old Ireland was
And of her tradesmen did work for good pay
Ah, but since our have crossed the Atlantic
Well, it's now that I must onto Amerikay

And now to conclude and to my ditty
If e'er a friendless Irishman happen my way
With the best in the house, I greet him and welcome him
At home on the green fields of

So pack up your sea stores now, it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't bad pay
With no or tithe there to devour up your wages
Across on the green fields of