Luyện nghe bài hát The Irish Stranger

Pity the of a poor Irish stranger,
That wanders so far his home,
That sighs for from want, woe, and danger,
That knows not from way for to roam.
Yet I'll never to Hibernia's green bowers,
For tyranny tramples the of flowers,
That gave me comfort in loneliest hours
Now are gone I shall ne'er see them more.

wonder I gazed on yon lofty building,
As in grandeur I from its lord,
But soon I beheld my fair yielding
The of fruit for his foe.
But, is my father's lone cottage of clay,
Wherein I' ve spent many a day,
! has his lordship conniv'd it away ?
Yes, it is gone, I shall see it more.

When was seen in the sloe bush and bramble,
All in beautiful bloom,
Over the fields danger, I often
Did ramble amidst their ;
I have wranged through the where the gay feather'd

Joyfully sung their loud song
These days then of summer passed along,
Now goneI shall ne'er see them more !

When the and the berries hung ripe on the bushes
I have them off without harm
I have gone to the field and the green rushes,
Preparing for winter's storm !
Along with my friends tales of delight,
Beguiling the of the long winter's night,
Those days gave me pleasureI could them ;
Now they're gone, I shall ne'er see more.

Oh, ! oh, Erin ! it grieves me to ponder
The of thy injurned isle !
Of thy may a thousand from home do wander
On shores far away an !
But me the power to cross the main,
Calumbia might me some shelter from pain,
I am only lamenting here I remain,
For the I shall ne'er see again.