Luyện nghe bài hát Old Bog Road

The Old Bog Teresa Brayton

My feet are here on
blessed harvest morn,
But oh! the thats in my heart
For the spot I was born.
My hands are blistered
Through work in and heat!
And oh! to a scythe once more
Through a field of wheat.
Had I the chance to back,
Or own a abode.
Id sooner see the tree
By the Old Bog Road.

When I was young and
My was ill at ease,
dreaming of America,
And the gold the seas.
Oh, sorrow rake money,
Tis hard to the same,
And whats the to any man
If no one his name.
Ive had my day and I am
A-building per load.
A long three thousand away
the Old Bog Road.

My mother died springtime,
When fields were green.
The said her waking
Was the ever seen.
There were and primroses
high above her bed,
And Church was crowded
When her Mass was read.
And here was I on
bricks per load.
When they carried out her
the old Bog Road.

There was a decent at home
Who used to with me.
Her were soft and sorrowful
Like oer the sea.
Her was Mary Dwyer,
But that was ago.
The of God are wiser
Than the that man might know.
She died the day I her,
A-building per load,
Id best forget the days Ive
On the old Bog Road.

Ah! Lifes a puzzle,
finding out by man,
Ill take the day for what its
And do the I can.
no one cares a rush for me
What need is to moan,
Ill go my way and my pay
And smoke my alone.
Each human must bear its grief
Though bitter be the
So God be you, Ireland,
And the Old Bog Road.