Luyện nghe bài hát The Rocky Road To Dublin/Kid On The Mountain

Well in the month of June,
From my I started, Left the girls of Tuam,
Nearly broken hearted, Saluted dear,
Kissed me darlin' mother, a pint of beer,
My grief and tears to smother, off to reap the corn,
And leave I was born, I cut a stout blackthorn,
To banish ghost and goblin, In a brand new of brogues,
Rattling o'er the bogs, And all the dogs,
On the road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five, Hunt the hare and her down
The rocky and all the ways to Dublin, Whack, fol lol de ra.

Now in Mullingar night,
I limbs so weary, Started by daylight,
Next bright and early, Took a drop of the pure,
To keep me heart from sinkin', Now that's the cure,
Whene'er he's on for drinking. To see the smile,
all the while, At my curious style,
'Twould set heart a bubblin'. Asked me was I was hired,
I required, 'Til I was almost tired,
Of the rocky to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five, Hunt the hare and turn her
The road and all the ways to Dublin, Whack, fol lol de ra.

When in next arrived,
I thought it such a pity, To be so deprived,
The of that fine city. Decided to take a stroll,
All among the quality, it was stolen,
In the locality; Something crossed my mind,
When I looked No bundle could I find,
Upon my a wobblin'. Enquirin' for the rogue,
Said me brogue, Wasn't much in vogue,
On the road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five, Hunt the and turn her Down the rocky road,And all the ways to Dublin, Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.

And from I got away,
My was never failin', Landed on the quay
Just as the ship was sailin'; at me roared,
Said that no room had he, Then I aboard,
A cabin for Paddy, Down among the pigs
Played funny rigs, Danced some hearty jigs,
The water me bubblin', Off to Holyhead,
I wished meself was dead, far instead,
On the road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five, Hunt the hare and turn her Down the road And all the ways to Dublin, Whack, fol lol de ra.

The of Liverpool,
When we landed, Called meself a fool;
I could no stand it; Blood began to boil,
Temper I was losin', Poor old Erin's
They abusin', "Hurrah me soul," says I,
My shillelagh fly; Some boys came by,
saw I was a hobblin', With a loud hurray,
They joined in the we cleared the way,
For the road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five, Hunt the hare and turn her Down the road And all the ways to Dublin, Whack, fol lol de ra.
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