《The Bard Of Armagh》歌词

[00:00:00] The Bard Of Armagh - John McNally

[00:00:13] Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper

[00:00:23] And scorn not the strains of

[00:00:27] His old withered hand

[00:00:31] But remember his fingers

[00:00:36] They could once move sharper

[00:00:41] To raise up the memory of

[00:00:45] His dear native land

[00:00:56] At a fair or a wake

[00:00:58] I could twist my shillelagh

[00:01:02] Or trip through a jig with

[00:01:05] My brogues bound with straw

[00:01:08] And all the pretty colleens in

[00:01:12] The village or the valley

[00:01:15] Loved their bold Phelim Brady

[00:01:19] The bard of Armagh

[00:02:00] And when Sergeant Death in

[00:02:08] His cold arms shall embrace me

[00:02:14] Then lull me to sleep with

[00:02:19] Sweet Erin go Bragh

[00:02:24] By the side of my Kathleen

[00:02:31] My young wife so place me

[00:02:40] And forget Phelim Brady

[00:02:47] The bard of Armagh