Luyện nghe bài hát There Were Roses

A song for you evening, and it's not to make you sad,
Or for adding to the sorrow of a Northern land.
But lately I've thinking, and it just won't leave my mind.
I'll tell you now of two good friends. They were both good of
mine.
Isaac Scott Derry, he lived just across the fields.
A man for the music and the dancing and the reels.
MacDonald came from South Armagh to young Agnes fair.
It was we'd meet on Ryan Road, and laughter filled the air.
Now, Isaac, he was and Sean was Catholic born.
But it never made a difference, for their it was strong.
And sometimes in the when we heard the sound of drums,
We said "War won't divide us, we always be as one.
For the our fathers plow in, the soil it is the same.
And the places where we say our have just got different
names."
We talked about our who'd died, we hoped there'd be no more.
It was little then we the tragedy in store.
There were roses, roses, were roses.
And the tears of the ran together.
It was on a Sunday morning when the awful news around.
There'd been killing outside of Caplan town.
We knew that danced up there, we knew he liked the band.
We that he was dead, and we just could not understand.
We gathered at his on a cold and rainy day.
The minister closed his eyes, and for no revenge he prayed.
And those of us who knew him from the Ryan Road,
Just bowed our heads and said a for the resting of his soul.
There were roses, roses, there roses.
And the of the people ran together.
Now it filled the countryside, and fear filled every home.
And one night, a car came prowling round the Ryan Road.
A Catholic would be tonight to even up the score.
Oh Christ, it's young MacDonald they've taken from the door.
"Isaac was my friend!" he cried, he begged with his fear.
But centuries of hatred have ears cannot hear.
"An eye for an eye" was all that filled minds.
And another eye for another eye, til is blind.
were roses, roses, there were roses.
And the tears of the ran together.
Now I don't know where the is, or how this song should end.
But I wonder just how many are fought between good friends.
And the men who give the orders, well, not the ones who die.
It's and MacDonald and the likes of you and I.
There roses, roses, there were roses.
And the of the people ran together.