Luyện nghe bài hát A Howling Dust

The soil here is in summer
so I my father in a tomb of rocks,
a plot behind St. church
to lay rest the dreams of pitiable 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 child to riches.

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

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

A of my friends and I
left to the creek.
The Chinaman 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 bawling
to the town.

the Chinaman,
clutching 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 mob swiftly grabbed
the exposed hand.
Father the collar
his neck.
The horde on the rope,
Chinaman and choked,
his brains upon the wall.

Soon all the mines 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 people left the
yet I to dwell here still.
When Father died of
I did not for him.
I pray the unburdens his sins.

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