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

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

Now in Mullingar night,
I limbs so weary, Started by daylight,
Next mornin' bright and early, Took a of the pure,
To me heart from sinkin', Now that's the Paddy's cure,
Whene'er on for drinking. To see the lasses smile,
Laughing all the while, At my style,
set your heart a bubblin'. Asked me was I was hired,
Wages I required, 'Til I was tired,
Of the road to Dublin.

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

in Dublin next arrived,
I thought it a pity, To be so soon deprived,
The view of fine city. Decided to take a stroll,
All among the quality, it was stolen,
In the neat locality; Something my mind,
I looked behind; No bundle could I find,
Upon my stick a wobblin'. for the rogue,
Said me Connacht brogue, Wasn't in vogue,
On the rocky to Dublin.

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

And there I got away,
My spirit was never failin', on the quay
Just as the was sailin'; Captain at me roared,
Said that no room had he, Then I aboard,
A cabin found for Paddy, among the pigs
Played some rigs, Danced some hearty jigs,
The round me bubblin', Off to Holyhead,
I wished meself was dead, far instead,
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.

The of Liverpool,
When we safely landed, Called a fool;
I no longer 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,
They saw I was a hobblin', With a hurray,
They joined in the affray?Soon we the way,
For the road to Dublin.

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