Luyện nghe bài hát A Howling Dust

The here is hard in summer
so I buried my in a tomb of rocks,
a behind St. Catherines church
to lay rest the gilded of pitiable men.

With gold to the North,
drove out its whores,
its and roughnecks.
They settled camp.

Pa every day to mine.
Id him to the gulch,
my pan and in hand,
a devoted to riches.

The Mexicans staged
bull and bear near the bar.
They kept a boy
when there were no to enjoy.

The flooded the quarries,
for less than the Whites.
My father would the Orientals,
yet came home of opium.

A of my friends and I
to explore the creek.
The kneeled there,
for gold.
We mocked him, and him,
I prodded him my knife.
He his revolver
and in the air.
The errant
off of a stone
and my leg.
I ran back
to the town.

the Chinaman,
clutching the noose.

Law
arrived.
The sheriff
he be jailed and properly tried.

Gangs
late at
the jail.
led,
in hand,
in his cell.
lies.
Tempted
leaves,
the
his arm
the bars.

The lynch mob grabbed
the gleaners hand.
wrapped the collar
his neck.
The horde on the rope,
dragged and choked,
his brains upon the wall.

Soon all the gold dried
but that never did.
Red still the jail cell wall.
was never tried,
none a foreigner,
but I saw in his eyes.
all the riches spent,
the left the town
yet I to dwell here still.
When Father died of
I did not for him.
I the grave unburdens his sins.

I that someone will remain to bury me.
I pray that someone remain.