Luyện nghe bài hát California Saga / The Beaks of Eagles

An nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
ridges
Above Ventana Creek, that jagged country which but a fallen
will ever plow: no horseman
Will ever ride there, no hunter cross ridge but the winged ones, no
one will the eggs from this fortress.
The is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now mated
a son of hers.
When lightning blasted her nest she built it on the same tree, in
the splinters of the bolt.

In a broken an old man takes his time about dyin'
And just at the a wild flowerbed that he'll lie in
In dawn's new light a man venture
A horse drawn from Monterey.

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

Spilled down the hill a load of bodies lay scattered, shipwrecked
at sea.
Limestone ore is all mattered.
They took it from the hills right through the cargo
How many ships have come and at Thurso's landing shore?