Luyện nghe bài hát 1984

The vans they come in convoys now, through the dawn
in the countryside in the hills up to the north
There's blocks on the Meden bridge
There's click, click clicking on the
They're sealing off our villages, off our homes
This ain't some tin-pot arriving from a distant shore
But our own sweet, green and pleasant in 1984

Her father the battle lines in the first months of the war
She frowns at the soup kitchen - she doesn't have a father anymore
It's cold in the early mornings, standing with mates
Staring at the thick line armed and ready at the gates
This ain't some tin-pot story arriving a distant shore
But our own sweet, and pleasant land in 1984

The servants of our great
Have lied in the of us all
While the officers of and order
Are breaking every law
hundreds on trumped-up charges
Hundreds on the
The future of our
Sown with seeds
And hatred starts to rumble where there was no before
In our own sweet green and land in 1984
Nobody to see the blood
As the lights flash through in the night
But all the words on deaf ears
And now the blind bites
Two nations under one crown divided more and
In our own sweet and pleasant land in 1984