Luyện nghe bài hát East of Woodstock, West of Viet Nam

I slept through the Nineteen Sixties, I heard Dory say
But me I caught me the white bird, to the shores of Africay
Where I lost my heart, to the sound of a talking drum
Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of

And on the roads outside Oshogbo, I fell down on my knees
There were female spirits in old mud huts, iron bells ringing up in the
And an eighty-year-old white priest, she made all night long
Yeah, of Woodstock, West of Vietnam

Raise the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah were coming through the rye
In the cinema I saw the man on the moon, I so hard I cried
It was somewhere in those rainy seasons, that I to carve my song
Yeah, of Woodstock, West of Vietnam

Oh Africa, Mother Africa, you lay on my breast
You old cradle of civilization, heart of blood and death
Though we had to play you running scared, the crocodile ate the sun
Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam

Well I think its going to tonight, I can smell it coming off the sea
As I sit here old Graham Greene I taste Africa on every page
Then I close my eyes and see red clay roads, and its sundown and boys Im gone
Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of

Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, were coming through the rye
It was a moveable of war and memory, a dark old lullaby
It was the smoke of a thousand camp fires, it was the end of a gun,
Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam.

Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of