Luyện nghe bài hát A Howling Dust

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

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

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

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

The Cantonese the quarries,
working for than the Whites.
My father would the Orientals,
yet home reeking of opium.

A group of my and I
to explore the creek.
The Chinaman there,
for gold.
We him, and pushed him,
I him with my knife.
He gripped his
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 exposed hand.
Father wrapped the
his neck.
The yanked on the rope,
dragged and choked,
his dashed upon the wall.

Soon all the mines dried
but that never did.
Red still stains the cell wall.
was never tried,
none a foreigner,
but I saw in his eyes.
With all the spent,
the left the town
yet I stayed to here still.
Father died of drink
I did not for him.
I pray the unburdens his sins.

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