Luyện nghe bài hát The Irish Stranger

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

With wonder I gazed on yon building,
As in grandeur I from its lord,
But soon I my fair garden yielding
The of fruit for his foe.
But, is my father's lone cottage of clay,
I' ve spent many a long day,
Alas ! has his conniv'd it away ?
Yes, it is gone, I never see it more.

When nature was seen in the bush and bramble,
All in beautiful bloom,
Over the without danger, I often
Did amidst their perfume ;
I have wranged through the woods where the gay

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

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

Oh, ! oh, Erin ! it grieves me to ponder
The wrongs of thy isle !
Of thy sons may a thousand home do wander
On far away an exile !
But give me the power to the main,
might yield me some shelter from pain,
I am only whilst here I remain,
For the boys I ne'er see again.