Luyện nghe bài hát The Green Fields of America (or Canada)

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, but I mind the time when old was flourishing
And most of her tradesmen did for good pay
Ah, but our manufacturers have crossed the Atlantic
Well, now that I must follow onto Amerikay

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

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