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

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

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

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

Oh Africa, Mother Africa, you lay heavy on my
You old cradle of civilization, heart of darkness and death
Though we had to play you scared, when the crocodile ate the sun
Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of

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

Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah coming through the rye
It was a feast of war and memory, a dark old lullaby
It was the smoke of a camp fires, it was the wrong end of a gun,
Yeah, of Woodstock, West of Vietnam.

Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam