Luyện nghe bài hát The Londonderry Air

Would God I were the tender blossom
That floats and falls off the twisted bough,
To lie and faint your silken bosom,
Within your silken as that does now!
Or would I were a burnish'd apple
For you to me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and your robe of lawn will dapple,
Your of lawn, and your hair's spun gold.

Yea, would to God I among the roses
That lean to kiss you as you between,
While on the lowest a bud uncloses,
A bud uncloses, to you, queen.
Nay, since you not love, would I were growing,
A daisy, in the garden path;
so your silver foot might press me going,
Might me going even unto death.