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 be as merry as ever they could wish for
As far away o'er the I'm bound

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

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

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

The lint are gone and the looms are lying idle
Gone are the winders of baskets and
And away o'er the ocean, go journeyman
And fiddlers who play out the old mountain

Ah, but I mind the when old Ireland was flourishing
And most of her tradesmen did work for pay
Ah, but since our manufacturers crossed the Atlantic
Well, it's now that I must follow onto

And now to conclude and to finish my
If e'er a Irishman should happen my way
the best in the house, I will greet him and welcome him
At home on the fields of Amerikay

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