Luyện nghe bài hát California Saga / The Beaks of Eagles

An nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
precipice-footed
Above Ventana Creek, that country which nothing but a fallen
meteor will ever plow: no
Will ever ride there, no hunter this ridge but the winged ones, no
one will steal the eggs this fortress.
The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now
a son of hers.
When blasted her nest she built it again on the same tree, in
the of the thunder bolt.

In a broken shack an old man takes his about dyin'
And just at the back a wild flowerbed that lie in
In new light a man might venture
A horse drawn stage Monterey.

The she-eagle is older than I: she was when the fires of eighty-five
raged on ridges,
She was lately fledged and dared not hunt ahead of them, but ate
meat.
The world has changed in her time; has multiplied,
But not men's hopes and thoughts and customs have changed, their
are enlarged, their powers and their follies have become fantastic.

Spilled down the hill a wagon of bodies lay scattered, shipwrecked
at sea.
ore is all that mattered.
They took it from the right through the cargo doors
How many ships have come and gone at Thurso's landing