Luyện nghe bài hát A Howling Dust

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

With found to the North,
drove out its whores,
its and roughnecks.
settled this camp.

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

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

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

A of my friends and I
left to 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
ricocheted off of a
and my leg.
I ran bawling
to the town.

the Chinaman,
Father the noose.

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

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

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

Soon all the 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 the town
yet I to dwell here still.
When died of drink
I did not for him.
I the grave unburdens his sins.

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