Luyện nghe bài hát The Londonderry Air

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

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