Luyện nghe bài hát A Howling Dust

The soil here is hard in
so I my father in a tomb of rocks,
a plot behind St. church
to lay rest the gilded dreams of men.

With found to the North,
Quartzburg out its whores,
its and roughnecks.
They settled camp.

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

The often staged
bull and fights near the bar.
They a boy entertained
when were no hangings to enjoy.

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

A group of my and I
to explore the creek.
The kneeled there,
for gold.
We him, and pushed him,
I prodded him my knife.
He his revolver
and in the air.
The bullet
off of a stone
and my leg.
I ran bawling
to the town.

the Chinaman,
clutching the noose.

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

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

The lynch mob swiftly
the gleaners hand.
Father the collar
his neck.
The yanked on the rope,
Chinaman and choked,
his brains dashed the wall.

all the gold mines dried
but blood 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 people left the
yet I stayed to here still.
When died of drink
I did not for him.
I pray the unburdens his sins.

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