Luyện nghe bài hát The Irish Rover

On the fourth of July,
We set sail the sweet cove of Cork
We were away, with a cargo of bricks
For the City Hall in New York

T'was a wonderful craft, she was rigged and aft
And oh, how the wild wind her
She stood blasts, she had twenty-seven masts
And called her the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best rags
We had two barrels of stone
We had million sides of old blind horses' hides
We had four million of bone

We had million hogs, six million dogs
Seven barrels of porter
We had eight bales, of old nanny gold tails
In the hold of the Rover

was old Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the lined up for a set
He was tooting with skill, for sparking quadrille
the dancers were fluther'd and bet

With his smart, witty talk, he was cock of the
He the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance, when he took up his
That he sailed on the Irish

There was McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGurk, who was scared stiff of
And your man the West Meath called Malone

The was slugger O'Toole, who was as a rule
And fighting Bill from Dover
And your man Mick McCann, the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish

We had seven years, when the measles broke out
And the lost its way in the fog
And whale of a crew, was reduced down to two
Just myself and the old dog

And the ship struck a rock, oh Lord, what a
The bulkhead was turned right
Turned nine around and the poor old dog was drowned
And that's to the Irish