《The Bard Of Armagh》歌词

[00:00:00] A Bard of Armagh - John McCormack

[00:00:14] Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper

[00:00:24] And scorn not the strains of

[00:00:28] His old withered hand

[00:00:31] But remember his fingers

[00:00:37] They once could move sharper

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

[00:00:46] His dear native land

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

[00:00:59] I could twist my shillelagh

[00:01:03] 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

[00:02:01] And when Sergeant Death in

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

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

[00:02:20] Sweet Erin go Bragh

[00:02:25] By the side of my Kathleen

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

[00:02:40] And forget Phelim Brady

[00:02:47] The bard of Armagh