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

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

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

But what matter to me, where my bones 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 pack up your sea stores now, it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there to devour up wages
Across on the green fields of

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

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

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

So pack up your sea stores now, it no longer
Ten dollars a week very bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there to up your wages
Across on the fields of Amerikay